Magic Dance in Middle Earth
by Ciryature Sea Elf
Summary: LotR Labyrinth crossover. Thranduil tells his five year old son, Legolas, that goblins will take him away if he does not behave. The threat proves true, resulting in a faceoff between the elven lord and everyone's favorite goblin king. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I am a goblin and stole these characters. JR, PJ, Mr. Henson, if you want them back you're gonna have to come get 'em in the castle at the center of the goblin city. Just kidding of course. All the usual disclaimers apply._

_AN: So… one day my roommate and I were watching Labyrinth. Afterwards, my muse informed me that the goblins in the Labyrinth were much different than those in Middle Earth (duh), and pondered upon what Thranduil or Legolas would have to say about them. This comment was quickly followed by a rabid plot bunny in goblin armor shouting "Bite her in the Teriyaki!" which refused to leave me alone. When I informed my roommate of my plight, she aided me by helpfully suggesting several ideas for character interactions, and from this sprang the following story, written in conjunction with my roommate, The Jedi Wizard Hobbit. _

_It was tremendously fun to write. JWH has seen Labyrinth many times and on top of that is a David Bowie freak. Consequently, she knows Jareth's character very well AND does an excellent impression of him. The majority of the dialogue was written by her and me assuming the roles of the characters, she as Jareth and I as Thranduil or Legolas, and talking back and forth. (We did this a lot during dinner.) As it was originally my story, I wrote most of it, but she has several parts of her own which I will identify as such when they are posted and she had a hand in many of the other events as well and most of Jareth's good lines are hers. Credit for the title also goes to JWH._

Magic Dance in Middle Earth

Chapter 1

Thranduil had a headache. It was one of those stress headaches that he had felt niggling around the bridge of his nose long before it had spread above his eyebrows and up into the center of his head in a piercing, throbbing pain like a dwarf trying to hack through his skull with a pickaxe. After a long day of dealing with matters of state and worrying over the growing threat of spiders in Mirkwood the last thing he wanted to do was put Legolas, his hyperactive youngest son, to bed.

Unfortunately for the woodland King, his wife and daughter had gone visiting his wife's mother on the outskirts of the elven city, and would not return for a few days yet, while his older son had been sent as an embassy to Imladris. The king could have asked Legolas's nurse to put him to bed, but the maid had been looking after the little prince all day and Thranduil felt a bit guilty, having spent little time with his son in the past few days.

But before he could give Legolas his bath and put him to bed, Thranduil had to find his son. This proved a difficult task; Legolas was not in his room, nor was he in the throne room or the kitchens, the elfling's favorite places. Frustrated, Thranduil tried his own room, and found Legolas perched on the top of his canopy bed.

"Father!" the little elf cried. "Look how high I am!"

Thranduil's eyes widened. "Legolas!" he exclaimed. "Come down from there!"

He had forgotten how literally five year olds often take things, and it was only the speed of elven reflexes that allowed Thranduil to catch his son as the elfling obeyed his father's instructions and leapt from his perch.

"Ai, Legolas!" Thranduil moaned. "One of these days you are going to hurt yourself, my son."

"Won't!" Legolas replied, squirming in his father's arms. "I'm brave and strong, like you!"

Normally Thranduil would have found this statement very endearing, but his recent fright and his piercing headache made him annoyed and cross.

"Not yet, you aren't," he said. "Right now you are a little elfling who is in need of a bath and a good night's sleep."

"I'm not little!" Legolas said petulantly. He hated being told he was young because everyone around him was older than he, and it bothered him. Thranduil knew this, but his headache had driven away some of his usual tact.

"Legolas, I don't have time to argue tonight," he said. "So please just cooperate."

"I'm not little," the elfling said again, crossing his arms and sticking out his lower lip in a pout.

Thranduil sighed and carried his sulking son down the hall to Legolas's own chambers where the servants had left a tub of steaming water for the prince's bath. Thranduil started to undress Legolas, but the little elf pulled away.

"I can do it!" he said excitedly, and set his small hands to work undoing the ties of his tunic. His five year old motor skills proved unequal to the task, however, and Thranduil did not have the patience to wait.

"Legolas," he said, reaching for the ties.

"No Father, I can do it!" the elfling said again, turning away. Thranduil ignored the statement, picking Legolas up and quickly undoing the ties, despite his son's wiggles.

"Father, no!" Legolas was not happy at being picked up and hauled around in what the little prince viewed as a very undignified manner. The fact remained, however, that his father was much bigger and much stronger than he was, and soon he was stripped and sitting in the bath.

So Legolas sulked as his father washed him, but, typically elven, his mood could not stay sour for long. He didn't want to be angry with his father, he wanted to play. When Thranduil turned around to get shampoo Legolas climbed out of the tub and disappeared out the slightly open door.

It took Thranduil only a moment to realize where his son had gone, for the elfling had left a dripping trail of water in his wake.

"Ai, Legolas!" he groaned, rinsing his soapy hands in the water and setting out after him.

Legolas crouched in the shadows, completely uncaring that he was stark naked and dripping wet, and waited for his father to come looking for him. Hide and seek was a game they often played together, and Legolas was getting very good at eluding his father.

The trail of water had lessened, and looking for a few droplets of water on the dark stone floor of the wide hallway was a daunting task, even for an elf, and Thranduil's patience was wearing thin.

"Legolas, if you don't come out right now, the goblins are going to come to get you," he said, something that his father, Oropher, had often told Thranduil when he was child.

Legolas came running out of the shadows and threw himself at his father.

"No they won't, father," he said, clinging to Thranduil's leg and dampening the King's robes. "You'll protect me." He looked up at his father, wide-eyed. "Right?"

Thranduil sighed and picked his son up.

"Yes, I will protect you," he sighed. "Now will you _please_ come back and take your bath?"

"Uh-huh," Legolas put his arms around Thranduil's neck and pressed his wet head against the older elf's cheek. Cold water dripped down Thranduil's collar as he carried Legolas back to his room.

The water had grown cool during their absence, and Legolas protested vehemently as he was put back into the bath. Thranduil managed to get him clean, but not without getting almost as wet as Legolas. As he dried the little elf off and slipped his wiggling form into a pair of soft green pajamas he turned weary eyes to the heavens.

_Valar, why?_ he asked silently. _His brother and sister were so easy…_

There was a barn owl perched in Legolas's window. The little prince loved animals, and animals loved him, so Thranduil wasn't surprised to see the bird there.

"Oh shoo!" he said crossly. 'Go on, get out of here!"

The owl regarded him silently and didn't move.

"Very well, then stay," Thranduil snapped, resisting the very un-kingly urge to throw something. He set Legolas down on the bed.

"No, father, I don't want to sleep!" Legolas said as Thranduil pulled the covers up over his chest. "Can we play a game?"

Thranduil massaged his forehead, trying to will the headache away.

"Legolas, it's very late, and you need to sleep."

"I'm not tired," Legolas said, bouncing. "I want to play!"

"Legolas, _no_," Thranduil said firmly. "You have to go to sleep now."

"What are you going to do?" Legolas asked, tangling his fingers in Thranduil's hair.

"Legolas, stop that!" Thranduil caught his little son's wrist and liberated his golden tresses. "As soon as you go to bed, I am going to bed as well."

"Can I sleep in your bed with you?" Legolas asked.

As Thranduil's plans actually included a long soak in a hot tub and a generous amount of wine, he shook his head.

"No, little one. You must go to sleep in your own bed."

Legolas frowned. "You never want to be with me!" he pouted. "You don't love me anymore!" With these words the little elf dropped his face into the pillow and dragged the blanket over his head. Only a little golden hair peaked out.

"Legolas," Thranduil tried to pull the cloth down again, but Legolas held on tightly.

"Go away!" came a muffled voice from under the blanket.

Thranduil sighed. He didn't have the patience to deal with this tonight. Tomorrow he would spend time with Legolas, reassure the little prince that he did love him. But not tonight.

He placed a hand on Legolas shoulder.

"Goodnight, little leaf," he said softly.

Legolas didn't reply, so Thranduil doused the lights and went to the door. He looked back into the darkness of the room, the silhouette of the owl visible against the starlit window. Legolas hadn't moved from under the blankets.

"Ai, Legolas," he sighed to himself. "Sometimes I almost wish the goblins would come take you away. At this very moment, for instance."

He shut the door wearily.

Far away, deep under the gray mountains, several pairs of beady eyes opened and looked at each other.

"Did you hear that?" one of them asked in a high, squeaky voice.

"Did he say it?" another inquired.

"Say what?"

"Shhhh!"

"He's supposed to say 'I wish the goblins would come and take you away _right now_."

"That's not what he said."

"He said 'at this very moment.'"

"Well, it means the same thing."

"What do we do?"

"I say go for it."

"Yeah, it's close enough."

No sooner had Thranduil shut the door than he heard a soft scrabbling noise issue from inside the room. He opened it again and looked inside.

"Legolas?" he said softly.

There was no reply. He stood peering into the darkness for a moment when his delicate ears caught the soft scrabbling sounds again, and he caught sight in the corner of his eye of a small shape moving across the floor. His hand reached for the dagger he always carried in the folds of his robe.

Another shaped moved and there was the sound of high pitched laughter. Quick as a striking snake, Thranduil threw the knife, and there was the sound of the blade hitting flesh. The laughter was cut off by a shriek.

"Aaah! I'm hit," a shrill voice squealed. "He got me! Oh, I'm dying, dying! Oh, the pain! I'm dying, oh, oh…"

There was the sound of gagging, and then silence. Thranduil darted to the bed and threw back the covers, and a small, green little face stared up at him. The creature hissed and Thranduil grabbed it by the throat.

"Where is my son?" he hollered.

Before the creature could reply a shadow fell across the bed, and Thranduil whirled around and looked at the figure standing in the moonlight window.

He couldn't believe his eyes as he stared at the man standing before him. Thranduil was greatly surprised to see a man in his realm at all, but what really astounded him was the man's dress. He was all in black, dressed in a leather shirt with a huge collar fanning up in the back. He wore black tights and leather boots as well, and a thin, glittery black cape billowed about him. His hands were on his hips and a thin, mocking smile graced his lips. The whole affect was supposed to be imposing, Thranduil guessed, but the elf just found it amusing, especially since the man's long, white-blond hair was standing straight up on end, giving him the appearance of an enormous black-and-white dandelion.

"Now really," the man said silkily. "Must you be so rough with my minions?"

Thranduil looked down at the little creature in his hand, which was twitching oddly, its mouth opening and closing in a vain attempt to breathe. Thranduil dropped it and it lay gasping on the floor.

"Who are you?" he asked, looking back to the man.

"Who am I?" the man asked, as if surprised by the question. "Who am I? Why, I am the Goblin King, of course." He waited expectantly for a reaction.

Thranduil crossed his arms impatiently over his chest. "And I am Queen of the Dwarves," he sneered, unamused by what he perceived as a rather foolish joke. "Who are you?"

The man stared back at him.

"No, I really am the Goblin King."

Thranduil arched an eyebrow.

"The Goblin King."

"Yes."

"You are a man."

"Yes."

"You are not a goblin."

"No."

"But you are the King of the Goblins."

"You know," the man remarked, pulling off one of his black leather gloves one finger at a time. "I had heard that elves were supposed to be clever. Now, do you want your bloody son back or not?"

That caught Thranduil's attention.

"What have you done to him?" he asked, taking a menacing step forward. The Goblin King took a step back and raised his hand.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Thranduil roared. "He is gone! I know you and your little creatures took him, and all you can say is nothing?" The elven King was incensed. "Nothing?" he repeated. "Nothing, tra la la!"

The man frowned. "That's my line," he said peevishly.

Thranduil blinked. "What?"

"Never mind. What I meant to say was; I haven't done anything _to _him… yet." The Goblin King turned and gestured with one arm. "He's there, in my castle."

Suddenly they were no longer in Legolas's room in Thranduil's palace, but instead outside, on a hilltop underneath an odd, dusty red sky. Streaky purplish clouds stretched across the horizon and the ground was covered with dry, dead flowers. Utterly perplexed by this strange turn of events, the elven king could only stare where the black-clad arm pointed.

A twisting, turning labyrinth stretched out below them. In the center Thranduil's sharp eyes could see a city and a castle rising toward the sky.

"You dishonorable villain!" Thranduil sneered, rounding on the man. "Kidnapping a child!"

The man only shrugged, unperturbed.

"I only did what you wanted," he said.

"I want no such thing."

"Oh, but you did." The man smiled, delighted with himself. "I believe your words were; 'I wish the goblins would come take you away at this very moment.'"

Thranduil stared at him. "My words," he said slowly, "were '_Sometimes_ I _almost _wish the goblins would come take you away.'"

The man looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Yes, well, it isn't easy finding people who actually wish their children would be taken away by goblins. I have to take what I can get." He straightened, and a clock with thirteen hours on its face suddenly appeared to his left. "You have thirteen hours to get through the labyrinth and to the castle, or I shall turn your baby brother... er," he turned red, "_son _into a goblin and he will be one of us forever. Have fun!"

And with those words and a finger wave he faded away.

Thranduil stared at the spot for a long moment. Clearly he was dealing with a very powerful wizard, Goblin King or no, someone whose power rivaled even that of Mithrandir. Thranduil had no choice but to play the man's game, at least for now.

He pulled off his heavy green robes and left them lying on the grass. Beneath them he wore a mail shirt of mithril and plain dark green leggings, for he had been hunting spiders earlier that day and had not had time to change his clothes. His bare arms were adorned with silver and mithril bands and rings glittered on his fingers, making him an impressive figure as he strode down the hill. His light shoes made no impressions on the dusty ground. He wished he hadn't wasted his dagger on that little imp in Legolas's room, as he would probably need it before he was through. At least his headache seemed to be abating.

At the bottom of the hill lay the first wall of the labyrinth, and Thranduil walked along it for a time, looking for a door. There didn't seem to be one, all he could see was rough, blank stone. Odd-looking plants grew up the sides of the wall, and tiny little people fluttered about on delicate wings. Thranduil stopped to take a closer look at the fairies, and one small woman fluttered up to his face.

"Greetings," has said softly, wondering if the fairy could speak. It said nothing, just bit him on the nose.

"Ah!" Thranduil's hand came up of its own accord and swatted the fairy, which fell to the ground with a tiny shriek. The elven king glared down at it when a voice to his left startled him.

"What's your problem?"

Thranduil looked in the direction of the voice and spotted a small… person, sitting against the wall. His skin was so gnarled and wrinkled and weathered that Thranduil had mistaken him for another rock, but now he saw his mistake. A face looked up at him, a large mouth and a bulbous nose, two cloudy blue eyes set close together, and a stringy mass of grey-brown hair. Thranduil wondered what sort of creature it was, even as he raised his hand to dab at the bite on his nose.

"It bit me," he said, examining his fingers for blood.

"Well, what did you expect fairies to do?" the person asked.

"I'm sure I don't know." Thranduil wiped his fingers on his shirt. "And who might you be?"

The little man stood up, walking a few steps in an awkward, hobbling gait.

"I'm Hoggle," he said.

"A what?"

"Hoggle," he said again. "That's my name."

Thranduil arched an eyebrow. "Do you know how to get into this labyrinth, Master Hobble?"

"It's Hoggle!" the little person snapped. "And yes, I do."

Thranduil waited patiently. When no further information was forthcoming, he asked;

"Well, how does one go about it?"

Hobble pointed, and a door swung open with a great billowing of dust and smoke. Thranduil waved a hand before his face as he and Hoggle moved toward the opening.

"Rather dirty, isn't it?" he remarked. Stepping through the doorway, he found himself standing in a stone corridor. There was a wall before him, and the passageway stretched away on either side as far as he could see.

"Now, would you go left or right?"

"Right, I should think," Thranduil said, peering down through the gloom.

Hoggle looked surprised. "Why?" he asked.

Thranduil shrugged. "It looks as good a way as any."

Hoggle snorted. "You're weird," he proclaimed, turning and marching out of the labyrinth. The heavy doors swung shut behind him and the loud clang hurt Thranduil's ears.

"Well then," he said, and started to walk.

But there seemed to be no openings in the passage. It stretched on in front of him and behind him, seemingly endless, and Thranduil soon grew bored of walking down the dull stone passageway. He knew there must be openings somewhere, but he could not see them.

"I'm missing something," he murmured to himself, leaning against the stone wall.

"'Allo," a tiny voice said.

Thranduil looked down and saw a tiny blue worm wearing a red scarf and looking up at him.

"Did you just say 'allo?'" he asked, perplexed.

"Yes, I did, and you just ruined my line. Thanks a lot, pal."

Thranduil blinked.

"I am sorry," he said, unsure as to what he was actually talking to.

"S'all right," the worm answered. "No one ever really gets the joke. So, what'r you doin' in 'ere, anyway?"

"The goblin king has taken my son," Thranduil replied. "And I have been told that I must reach the castle at the center of the labyrinth within thirteen hours if I wish to retrieve him."

"Oh," the worm nodded knowingly. "That again."

"Again?" Thranduil asked, startled. "He has done this before?"

"Oh yeah. Used to be people runnin' all over this labyrinth. Never could find the entrances either."

"Where _are _the entrances?" Thranduil asked.

"Oh, there ain't any anymore. Used to be one right across there." The worm jerked its chin to indicate the wall opposite them. "But one day a couple 'a dwarves came and filled it in. Such a shame, no one ever comes by for tea anymore. Why don't you come inside and meet the missus?"

Thranduil looked down at the tiny figure and the equally tiny hole in which the worm lived.

"Thank you," he answered. "But I really don't think I would fit."

The worm considered this for a moment.

"Ah, I s'pose your right. Pity. Well, good luck finding your son." And with those words the worm disappeared into the crack in the wall.

Thranduil stared at the little hole for a long time, then straightened and looked at the wall across from him. It was about eight or nine feet high, and the spaces between the rocks would provide fair handholds. He reached out and placed his hand upon the wall and looked up sharply as a distant cry reached his ears.

"Ada!"

"I'm coming Legolas," he whispered, beginning to climb. To his right he noted a vine that formed an outline suspiciously akin to the face of the goblin king.


	2. Chapter 2

_Mae govannen, and welcome to chapter 2! Hope you enjoy it!_

**_Navaer Lalaith _**_– I believe Labyrinth was a movie before it was a book, actually. Yeah, JWH and I looked at the crossover section, but it seemed like the story would be easier to find if I posted it in the LotR section and she posted it in the Labyrinth section. Otherwise a lot of people might never find it._

**_Pasha ToH – _**_It is a little known fact that I will do just about anything for cookies. Here you go!_

**Magic Dance in Middle Earth**

Chapter 2

Legolas did not know where he was. There were small green and brown creatures crawling and running and hopping all around him, and the young prince's Westron was not very good, so the words of the creatures, rather absurd and ridiculous anyway, sounded only like garbled nonsense to him. He was trying hard to be brave, but he was utterly lost and alone, and tears were trickling down his cheeks despite his best efforts.

"What's the matter?" one of them sneered at him, blowing a raspberry.

"Ada!" Legolas called, hoping his father would suddenly appear and whisk him away to safety. But he had no such luck. Instead, the frightening man who had taken him from his bed stood over him.

"Now now, don't cry," he said.

Legolas drew back from the strange figure. The man was dressed in a white shirt with large sleeves, grey leggings, and what looked like a black leather waistcoat. He had black gloves on as well, and his wild hair made him an alarming figure in the little elf's eyes.

"I want my father!" he whimpered in Sindarian.

Jareth, for that was the man's name, stared at the little elf who spoke a language the goblin king couldn't understand. He knew what to do for crying children, however, so he turned and grabbed the shirt of a nearby goblin as music started up from nowhere.

"_You remind me of the babe!"_ he declared gleefully.

_"What babe?"_ the goblin asked, confused. Honestly, these creatures were so _stupid_. There was only one child in the castle at that moment, and he was sitting in the room with them, for goodness sake!

_"The babe with the power."_

_"What power?"_

_"The power of Voodoo."_

"The what-now?" the goblin asked.

Jareth groaned and the music screeched to a halt.

"People, people," he said. "How many times do we have to go _through _this? I say 'the power of voodoo,' and you say 'who do?'"

A chorus of ohhhhs and grunts of affirmation followed his words, and Jareth started the music once more.

_"The babe with the power."_

_"What power?"_

_"The power of Voodoo."_

_"Who do?"_

_"You do."_

_"Do what?"_

_"Remind me of the babe."_

Jareth always thought himself very clever when he said that, but the goblins spoiled it by laughing. They _always _laughed too early.

"Quiet!" he snapped. "A goblin babe."

Silence.

"Well?"

The goblins laughed, and Jareth began to sing.

_"I saw my baby, crying hard as babe could cry.  
What could I do?  
My baby's love had gone and left my baby blue.  
Nobody knew: What kind of magic spell to use?"_

_"Slime and snails,"_ one goblin offered.

_"Or puppy dog's tails,"_ another said. At least the miserable creatures could rhyme.

_"Thunder or lightning."_Or not.

Jareth spun around and pointed at Legolas.

_"Then baby said -"_

Legolas had been trying very hard to figure out exactly what the people around him were saying. Jareth's voice was easier to understand than those of the goblins, and he realized that the man was referring to him as a baby.

"Not a baby!" he declared hotly.

Jareth just moved on to the chorus:

_"Dance magic, dance.  
Dance magic, dance.  
Put that baby spell on me.  
Jump magic, jump.  
Jump magic, jump.  
Put that magic jump on me.  
Slap that baby, make him free!"_

That Legolas also understood, and his indignation won out over his fear.

"No!" he shouted and ran up to Jareth, kicking him hard in the shin and then running out the door.

The music stopped again as Jareth grasped his shin and hopped up and down on one leg.

"Well, go get the little brat," he snarled, and the goblins raced to do his bidding.

Meanwhile, Thranduil had come up with the clever idea of marking the stone beneath his feet with a rock he had found so that he could retrace his steps if he should come up against a dead end. It was a good plan, considering he had already encountered several, and as he looked up from his marking he saw another wall before him.

_Perhaps I should just climb over it_, he mused. Suddenly a noise caught his attention. It was soft sound of rock scraping against rock, followed by the murmuring of tiny voices.

"Pasta Vazoo? Is a-writing on the fraggin' walk-walk! Your mother is a fraggin' aardvark!"

Thranduil spun and snatched up the flagstone that the little people were in the process of turning. He lifted it and the little people into the air.

"What did you say about my mother?"

One of the little people made a noise like "eep," and then they were silent, clinging for dear life to the stone square.

"Ah, ah nuthin'" one of them said at last. "Didn't say nothin.'"

"Put us down, mister?" another asked timidly.

"Tell me which way to go," Thranduil commanded.

The little people put their heads together as best they were able without letting go of their handholds.

"That way!" they said with one voice.

Thranduil turned and looked behind him, and where the dead end had been before there now stood two doors, decorated by some odd-looking two-headed creatures that somewhat resembling playing cards.

"Pick-a a door-door," one of the little people said helpfully.

Thranduil put them down and they scurried back into their little hole screaming; "hit you avec un sac-a-dos!" as he approached the doors, regarding the two-headed figures suspiciously.

"Try one of these doors," one head said.

"One of them leads to the castle," another added. "The other leads to…"

"Bu-bu-bu-bum!" a third head said helpfully.

"Certain Death!"

All four heads made ooohing noises.

"Which door leads to the castle?" Thranduil asked the head that had first addressed him, located on the bottom of the left-hand door.

"We can't tell you."

"Alright then," Thranduil chose at random and stepped through the right-hand door.

"Wait! How do you know that door doesn't lead to (bu-bu-bu-bum!) Certain Death?" a voice shouted at him.

"Nothing is ever certain," he called back, and at that moment the ground opened up beneath him and he had a brief moment to wonder if certain death lay at the bottom of a hole before he fell.

Hands stuck out of the wall on all sides, and after a while they grasped his arms and legs and stopped his decent.

"What in the name of Arda…?" Thranduil began.

Some of the hands came together to form the shape of a face, and the mouth moved as a voice said;

"We want to help you."

Another face formed to his right.

"We're helping hands."

"Which way would you like to go?" another hand-face asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Up or down?"

"Come, come, we haven't got all day."

Thranduil didn't much relish the thought of falling further beneath the earth into a dark hole.

"I would much prefer to go up, thank you," he said.

There was a flurry of motion as the hands formed dozens of faces, all talking excitedly to each other.

"Up?"

"He chose up?"

"No one ever chooses up!"

"What do we do?"

"Send him down."

And then the hands released him and Thranduil fell once again, landing at last in a dark hole. A gate clanged shut loudly over the opening he had come through. This didn't look good.

Thranduil sat alone in that hole for about an hour. He examined all sides of it with both his eyes and his fingers, but he could find no way in or out except the way he had come. He peered up into the dark, vertical tunnel and wondered how difficult it would be to remove the grate and climb back up it. With no other options he began to loosen the bolts with a rock, singing softly to himself to sooth his rattled nerves and to keep the darkness of his earthen prison at bay.

_"A Elbereth Gilthoniel,  
silivren penna miriel  
o menel aglar elenath.  
Na-chaered palan-diriel  
o galadhremmin ennorath,  
Fanuilos, le linnathon  
nef aear, si nef aearon."_

His voice was sweet and low and rich, filling the small earthen hole with sound that echoed up the tunnel above his head and faintly reached the ears of some of the small creatures passing by. All who heard the sound stopped to listen, entranced by the beautiful voice and the words they could not understand. Only one pair of ears that heard the elf's song was not enamored.

"Oh, la de da," Jareth said. He pillowed his cheek on one gloved hand as he gazed into the crystal palmed in the other, watching Thranduil move about the hole. "I do hope he gives up once the dwarf leads him back to the beginning. I'm not sure I can take much more of this."

"I don't think he will ever give up, Sire," a thin goblin at his side said.

"Oh?" Jareth asked wearily. "And what makes you think that?"

"He's too much like you, sire."

A sweep of Jareth's bejeweled riding crop sent the goblin crashing to the floor.

The other goblins stared at him.

"Well? Laugh!" he commanded.

The metal cover gone at last, Thranduil put his fingers on the inside of the tunnel and was about to lift himself up when he heard the sound of footsteps.

"Who is there?" he asked, turning and dropping into a crouch, ready if an attack should come. His elven eyes made out a small, hunched shape in the darkness.

"Me."

Thranduil recognized the voice even before a match flared to life and a lantern was set alight. Two close set, cloudy blue eyes looked up at him.

"Hello, Hobbit," he said.

"It's _Hoggle_. Say it with me. Hog-gle."

"My apologies," Thranduil said absently, glancing around the walls again now that they were illuminated.

"Oh, you're looking around," Hoggle said.

"You're a very observant man, er… ah…" Thranduil turned to look at him. "Hoggle, what sort of creature _are _you?"

"I'm a dwarf," Hoggle replied, looking mildly insulted.

"But you haven't a beard."

"So, what's that got to do with it?"

"Well, all dwarves have beards."

"No they don't. And besides, I don't like beards. They itch."

Thranduil stared at him for a moment, then decided he had more important things to worry about and went back to his inspection of the hole. Hoggle continued his exposition as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"I suppose you've noticed there ain't no doors. Only the hole. This is an oubliette. Labyrinth's full of them."

"Fascinating." Thranduil was peering up the tunnel again, only half listening to Hoggle's words.

"Bet you don't know what an oubliette is," Hoggle said smugly.

Thranduil, having lived all his life in Middle Earth, had never had the opportunity to study French, and so, of course, did not.

"It's a place where you put people to forget about them," Hoggle said, grinning from ear to ear.

Thranduil grunted. "How did you get in here?" he asked.

"What?"

"Well, you were not in here when I arrived and you didn't come tumbling down the tunnel, so I can only assume there is another entrance. How did you get in?"

Hoggle shifted uneasily under Thranduil's gaze, scuffed his toe in the dirt, and looked everywhere but into the elven lord's face.

"I, ah, well… I ain't telling."

"Why not?"

"I don't like you."

Thranduil considered. He could threaten Hoggle into submission, which, if he was any sort of judge of character at all, would be fairly easy, or he could appeal to the small creature's greed. He had noticed the shiny jewels and baubles hanging from Hoggle's waist, and assumed that bribery would work just as well as intimidation. And it would be kinder.

He slipped a ring off his finger.

"If you show me the way out of this hole," he said. "I will give you this."

Hoggle's eyes widened.

"Do we have a deal?" Thranduil asked.

Hoggle wavered, harrumphed, and then put out his hand.

"Deal," he said. Thranduil dropped the ring into his hand. "What is this made of, anyway?" he asked suspiciously.

"Mithril."

"Meee –thrill," Hoggle repeated. "Cor."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind." Hoggle picked up a piece of wood off the floor and propped it up against the wall. "Here we go."

With a flourishing "dad um!" he swung the piece of wood to the side. Where only earth had been a moment before there was now an open space. Steam billowed out of the doorway as it opened and a woman screamed.

"Ooops! Sorry ma'am," Hoggle said quickly, slamming the door shut again. He gave Thranduil an apologetic look, his face red with embarrassment. "Well, can't be right all the time."

He swung the door the opposite way, revealing a dark doorway.

"Ah ha, this is it," he said. "Come on then."

Thranduil followed the little dwarf through the doorway (it was a rather tight squeeze for the elf) and found himself in a large and spacious tunnel. There were faces carved into the pillars of rock that supported the ceiling, and they moved and spoke as the elf and dwarf passed.

"Don't go on!"

"Go back while you still can!"

"This is not the way…"

"Take heed, and go no further!"

"BEWARE! BEWARE!"

"Soon it will be too late…"

"Ignore them," Hoggle advised. "They're just false alarms. You get them a lot in the labyrinth, especially when you're on the right track."

"Oh, no, you're not!" a rock to their left shouted.

"Oh, shut up!" Hoggle hollered back.

"Sorry, just doing my job," the rock muttered, chagrined.

"Beware," said another, a little further on. "For the…"

"Just forget it," Hoggle said exasperatedly.

The rock snapped its jaw shut with a snap.

"I should get some of those," Thranduil said, craning his neck to look back at the false alarms as Hoggle grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into another passage.

A small crystal ball rolled by their feet as they stepped into the new tunnel. They watched as it moved a little way down the tunnel until it came to the feet of a stooped beggar man, where it hopped up into the tin cup in the man's hands.

Thranduil's elven senses told him there was more to this beggar than met the eye, but before he could do anything the figure suddenly stood, and the costume fell away to reveal the goblin king.

"Well, well, what have we here?" he asked.

"Uh, nothing," Hoggle said.

"Nothing?" the man snapped back. "Nothing! Noth… oh damn." He gave Thranduil an angry glare. "That really was my best line."

Thranduil smiled thinly.

"So, my elven friend, I have been trying to get Hoggle to actually follow my orders for _years_. How is it that you have him helping you so early in your acquaintance?" His eyes flitted to the mithril ring, which Hoggle had strung about his neck with a leather cord.

Thranduil shrugged. "More flies with honey."

"Helping! Oh, _no_, Your Majesty," Hoggle interrupted. "I wasn't helping him. I was going to lead him back to the beginning! Just like you told me!"

"That's good, Higgle," Jareth began.

"It's Haggle," Thranduil offered helpfully.

"Hoggle!"

"Yes. Because if I thought for one second that you were betraying me, I'd be forced to suspend you head first into the bog of eternal stench."

"No, Your Majesty! Not the eternal stench!"

"Oh yes, Hoggle!"

Thranduil clapped.

"What?" Jareth asked

"You remembered his name. Well done indeed, my lord," the elf said sarcastically.

Jareth glared. "And how are you enjoying my labyrinth, _my lord_?" he queried.

"It's not that bad," Thranduil answered. The other two stared at him. "Well, I'm not saying I'd like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely."

"Well," Jareth said. "_You_ may be enjoying this, but frankly _I_ find the whole affair rather boring, so why don't I speed things along?"

The clock marking the time Thranduil had left to complete the labyrinth appeared again and Jareth twirled his finger, causing the hands to advance several hours. Thranduil's face remained impassive, but his eyes shone with rage.

"You have no honor," he said coldly.

"You keep saying that," Jareth remarked. "I wonder what your basis for comparison is." He started to walk away, then suddenly turned back to face the elf.

"Oh, and by the way, you sing like a choir boy."

Thranduil bristled at the unspoken implication. "I have three children," he said.

"Must have been before they went _snip._"

This was too much for elven pride to take. Thranduil launched himself at his foe, his right fist connecting solidly with the side of Jareth's face as the elven king knocked the goblin king to the ground.

Jareth was no sluggard, but he barely had time to register surprise before he found himself on his back upon the ground. Thranduil sat upon his chest, one arm across Jareth's windpipe, pressing just hard enough to make breathing uncomfortable without cutting off the goblin king's air supply completely. Hoggle cowered against the far wall, forgotten by both kings for the moment.

"I could kill you now," Thranduil threatened his captive.

"Then… you'd never… get… your son back," Jareth gasped.

"Nay," Thranduil pressed a little harder. "I believe killing you would remove the greatest obstacle in my path."

"I… don't… think so!" Jareth snapped his fingers and his riding crop appeared in his hand. He swung it at Thranduil's head, the crystal on its top striking the elf's temple. Thranduil fell to the side, rolled, and came smoothly to his feet, ignoring the way the world wobbled slightly. He stood in a fighter's stance, knees bent and on his toes, waiting for the attack.

But it never came. Jareth scrambled upright, but instead of continuing the fight, he changed the riding crop into a mirror and gazed into it. The beginnings of a deep bruise were already forming on his left cheek.

"You mangled my face!" he exclaimed. "You insolent, pointy eared, flat haired…" he groped for an appropriate designation. "aardvark!"

Thranduil sneered Sindarian at him. "You disgust me, vile King."

"What was that about my mother?" Jareth's mirror transformed into one of his crystals. "So you like my labyrinth, do you? You think it's pretty? Well, let's see how you deal with this slice!"

Thranduil frowned. "Slice of what?"

"Pie!"

Jareth hurled the crystal toward the far end of the tunnel. There was a flash of light as the goblin king disappeared and a large metal object appeared where the crystal had fallen.

"Oh no!" Hoggle hollered. "The cleaners!"

…..

_See that little button there? If you click on it, you just might get your own little pocket Legolas!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Magic Dance in Middle Earth**

_ Hey all, sorry for the wait. I meant to post this sooner, but real life, in the form of Art History papers and presidential elections, got in the way. You know how it is._

**_clpm-9_**_– I made you have to go watch the movie again? Wonderful, this story is a success. Yes, the music is very catchy, isn't it?_

**_Rhys_**_ – Very twisted, precious.__ Yes, Thranduil's ready to make Jareth pay… but the goblin king has a few tricks up his sleeves yet._

**_Navaer_****_ Lalaith _**_– As__ for getting past the language barrier, my solution is… to ignore it. Again, because this story is so "out there" and removed from the "real" worlds of both Middle Earth and the Labyrinth, it doesn't seem such a stretch to say that Westron is the same language as English. Obviously it is not, but we're pretending. –wink- After all, it is only fanfiction._

**_Pasha TpH_**_ - Homemade chocolate chip and macadamia cookies? Wow, you must really like this story! –munches- Sorry for the cliffie; it wasn't very big, and besides, I need them or people might get bored. Here's Chapter 3, hope it makes up for the wait._

**_Erestor_**_ – I love Thranduil, and all those Evil!Thranduil fics out there make me sad. I think he is brave and heroic, a good king, and a good father, and I write him that way._

_Ah yes, the blatant Princess Bride homage. I meant to put something about that in the notes for the chapter, but I forgot. (It's not my fault, the goblins stole my brain!) Anyway, kudos to you for spotting it-hands over pocket Oropherion- Hurray for the Lords of the __Greenwood_

_And now on to…_

**Chapter 3**

"Oh no!" Hoggle hollered. "The cleaners!"

"The what?" Thranduil asked, peering down at the approaching object. It looked like a great metal cone set on its side, with a spherical base and a very sharp tip which was pointing down the tunnel as it advanced upon them. Several bits of metal were stuck on its surface and they twisted and spun as if turned by some unseen hand.

"Run!" Hoggle screamed, and without waiting for the elf he turned and began to scamper down the hallway as fast as he was able. Which wasn't very fast.

Thranduil, though, was curious about this strange object. He had never seen such a device before, and he continued to watch the cleaners' approach, ignoring Hoggle's screams of terror. Despite his ignorance of the workings of machines, however, Thranduil was smart enough to see that the metal cone took up the entire passageway, and that it was moving very quickly. Giving it a final curious look he turned and darted down the passage away from the approaching danger. Catching up to Hoggle in a few long strides he scooped the dwarf up and tucked him under his arm, running swiftly down the tunnel.

They had soon outdistanced the cleaners, and Hoggle was just beginning to relax and to clamor to be put down when Thranduil stopped. Before him was the sudden end of the tunnel.

"Aaah! We're going to die!" Hoggle cried, squirming in Thranduil's grip. But the elven king had been to Mordor and had faced Sauron on the slopes of Mount Doom. He certainly wasn't going to panic over a pointy metal cone. After all, Sauron had been all over pointy metal.

He glanced around, spotted a rusted-looking door, and sent it crashing inward with a swift kick. The cleaners weren't even close to them as Thranduil stepped inside to safety and set Hoggle back down on his feet.

"There now," he said.

Hoggle patted himself all over as if assuring himself that he was still all in one piece.

"Phew!" he said. "The cleaners, the Eternal Stench… you sure got his attention. What did you have to hit him for?"

Thranduil drew himself up. "He maligned my honor. Would not you have done the same in my place?"

"Not on your life!" Hoggle exclaimed, horrified.

"Why ever not?"

"Now don't look at me like that," Hoggle said peevishly. "You've got to understand my position. I'm a coward, and Jareth scares me."

"Jareth?" Thranduil inquired.

"Yeah." Hoggle looked around the room. "Ah!" he said. "This is what we need; a ladder. Follow me."

Hoggle grasped the sides of the ladder and began to move slowly upward, Thranduil following.

"You ain't angry at me for saying I was taking you back to the beginning, are you?" Hoggle asked as he climbed. "I'm not, you know. I just said that to throw him off the scent."

"I do not suspect you any more than I already did, Hoggle," Thranduil replied.

"What? What's that supposed to mean?" the dwarf sputtered. "You already suspected me?" In his indignation he nearly slipped and Thranduil put a steadying hand on his ankle.

"I barely know you," the elf king pointed out. "And since I made your acquaintance you have told me both that I am strange and that you do not like me."

"Huh! Some friend you are," the dwarf grumbled. He stepped up onto the next rung, which promptly snapped beneath his weight, and his complaints were cut off by a cry. Thranduil put his hands beneath the dwarf's feet and boosted him onto the next rung.

"I wasn't aware that friendship had anything to do with it," he said, waiting patiently for the dwarf to keep climbing. "I was under the impression I was paying for your services."

"Yes, well…" Hoggle's voice trailed off. "Ah!" he exclaimed a moment later. There was the sound of stone scraping against stone and bright light shone down upon them. Hoggle climbed out of the hole and Thranduil followed.

...

Jareth sat crosswise on his throne, one arm of the wooden chair behind his back and the other under his knees. He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers and sighed. How long could it possibly take the chase down and recapture one little elf? He was just considering getting up and seeing to the task himself when the shouts of a clear little voice reached his ears.

A moment later the struggling form of Legolas was born into the room. Two or three goblins hung tightly to each of the little prince's limbs and carried him, wiggling, over to Jareth. They dumped him on the floor and scurried away, but not before Legolas could give one of them a sharp kick in the rear

He looked up at the goblin king, his little face scrunched in fury and his eyes blazing. His small fists were clenched in defiance as he shouted at the man.

Unable to make out the quick flow of Elvish words, Jareth sat up a bit and put his hand to his ear.

"What was that?"

Legolas frowned, trying to put his thoughts into his second language.

"Ada will come and kill you," he said.

"Oh, I doubt that," Jareth said smugly, putting his feet on the floor and leaning toward the little prince. "Your father is very far away, and he doesn't even know how to find you."

"My ada knows… knows…" Legolas stopped, searching for the right word, "all the things!"

"Does he now?" Jareth leaned back again, a crystal appearing in his fingers. He spun it lazily, watching Legolas's reaction. The little elf was intrigued. "You know, Legolas," he said idly, flipping the crystal over the tips of his finger, across the back of his hand, over his fingers again, and back to his palm. "You would be much happier if you stayed here with me. You would never have to take a bath, do chores, or have lessons." He blew on the crystal and it turned from clear to a cloudy blue. "You could eat ice cream any time you wanted."

The little elf frowned. "What's that?"

Jareth sighed. What kind of place was this Middle Earth, anyway? It didn't even have ice cream!

"You wouldn't have to go to bed when you weren't tired. Wouldn't you like that?"

Legolas was considering, his nose scrunched up endearingly on one side. Jareth was actually beginning to like the little fellow. He would make an adorable goblin.

"I'm not a bad man," he said. "I'll even give you a present." He leaned down and held out the crystal. "Go on, take it."

Legolas reached out a hand and took the sphere. He looked at it for a moment, then raised his arm and threw it at Jareth with a strength that belied his tiny form. It struck the gobin king in the shoulder.

"Why you little..." he snarled, rising from his seat and reaching out to grab the child.

Legolas shrieked with laughter and darted nimbly out of his reach.

...

Thranduil and Hoggle climbed out into the sun and found themselves in a maze of hedges. Thranduil climbed out of what seemed to be a very large pot set upon a small table. Perplexed, he peered at the bottom of the pot, and then at the ground, and then at the space in between, which consisted of about half a foot of nothing but air. He frowned and waved a hand underneath the base of the pot. Yes, it was definitely air. How strange…

"Well, here we are," Hoggle announced unnecessarily.

"Mmm." Thranduil made a non-committal noise as he rocked back on his heels and studied the pot. It must be a trick of some sort, there was no possible way…

"You're on your own from now on," Hoggle said.

"Yes, thank you Halfling."

"Ohhhh, it's HOGGLE!" the dwarf moaned.

"My apologies." Thranduil lay down on his back and was about to stick his head underneath the pot when a voice with a strange accent said;

"Hey! What are you doing, eh?"

He looked up at what at first glance appeared to be a giant bird wearing a large ragged cloak and at second glance proved to be a small old man wearing a large ragged cloak and a hat with a long-necked bird head on it. It was the hat that had spoken.

"Oh, an elf," said the old man.

"Greetings," Thranduil said, standing quickly. "My name is Thranduil, and I am attempting to reach the castle at the center of this labyrinth. Could you perchance tell me which way to proceed?"

"Well, you won't find any castles under that pot!" the bird-hat exclaimed.

"Oh hush…" the old man mumbled to his cap. He began to shuffle slowly over toward a stone chair a few feet away. Thranduil gallantly offered him an arm.

"Oh, ah. Thank you," the old man said as Thranduil helped him into the high chair. "You're a very nice young man."

He settled himself into the chair, wiggling until he was comfortable. Thranduil waited patiently.

"You…want to get…to…the…castle?" the old man said at last.

"How's that for brainpower, huh?" the hat chuckled.

"Be quiet!" the old man snapped. Thranduil smiled. This old man reminded him somewhat of Mithrandir.

"Aw, nuts," the hat whined.

"So, my young friend," the old man said, returning his gaze to Thranduil. "The way forward is sometimes the way back."

The bird attempted to roll its eyes and ended up rolling its entire head.

"Ay, would you listen to this crap?"

"Will you please _be quiet_?" the old man said irritably, gazing up through his shaggy brows at the brim of his hat since he couldn't actually see the bird, as it was positioned directly over the top of his head.

"All right," the hat said sulkily.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Alright."

"Alright." There was a pause. "Sorry."

The old man closed his eyes briefly.

"Finished?" he asked.

The bird thought.

"Yes," it declared.

The old man waited a moment longer, as if expecting the hat to continue. When it did not he looked again at Thranduil.

"Quite often," he said slowly. "It seems like we're not getting anywhere, when, in fact…"

"We are!" the hat finished helpfully.

The old man started.

"We _are_," he snarled, glaring upward again.

Thranduil smiled. Now _this _was helpful. It was the kind of advice an elf might give, something alike to what Thranduil himself might have said in a similar situation.

"My thanks to you, my lord," he said gratefully.

"Lord? Pah!" the bird exclaimed. The old man said nothing, a gentle snore issuing from beneath his dipping hat. Also very Mithrandir-like; the old wizard had often drifted off to sleep in the midst of tales and songs in Thranduil's hall. The elf-king's smile grew wider.

"I, uh, I think that's your lot," the bird said. From somewhere beneath the robes a bony hand holding a small wooden box with a slot in its lid emerged. "Please to leave a contribution in the little box."

Thranduil slipped a vine-shaped ring from his index finger, and Hoggle, who had been watching the exchange from a short way away, stepped closer, his eyes on the silver as Thranduil dropped it into the box.

"Gracias senior," the hat sing-songed.

"You didn't have to give him that," Hoggle told Thranduil as the two of them turned away. "He didn't tell you nothing.'"

"Indeed he did," Thranduil countered.

"What did he tell you?"

Thranduil smiled, his eyes gleaming. "Exactly what I needed to hear. Farewell, Hoggle."

The dwarf blinked. "What?" he asked. "You're not going to ask me to come with you?"

Thranduil arched an eyebrow.

"The bargain was for you to show me out of the oubliette," he said. "You have done so. Your obligation to me has been fulfilled."

The dwarf looked almost hurt.

"You are more than welcome to accompany me if you like," the elven king added. "Your knowledge of the labyrinth has been most helpful."

"What? It has?" Hoggle was obviously not used to being complimented.

"Indeed. Had it not been for you, I would have been forced to climb out of the oubliette the same way I came into it, which would have been no easy feat. You have saved me a great deal of time, and for that I am grateful."

"Oh." The dwarf considered this for a while. "You're welcome."

They walked in silence for a time, and Thranduil was just beginning to think that Hoggle would stay with him after all when suddenly a loud roar met their ears.

Hoggle jumped about a foot in the air.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, turning. "Good bye!"

Thranduil caught him by the collar.

"Now wait," he said. "You have not yet seen the source of that noise. How do you know it is a threat?"

"I know, I know!" Hoggle shouted, squirming. "I'm not helping you anymore! Let me go!"

Thranduil did, watching the dwarf scamper away on unsteady legs. He shook his head as the sound of the roar filled the air again. He had lived too long to be so easily frightened, and anyway, it seemed to his intuitive elven ears that the cries were more exclamations of pain than ones of aggression. He turned and jogged toward the source of the sound.

...

The problem was that the elfling simply had too much energy. Jareth desperately needed to find a positive outlet for that energy before someone (namely Jareth) got hurt (again).

"Come down from there, you undisciplined spiteful brat!" he exclaimed. Legolas had climbed up the curved metal banners decorating the wall behind Jareth's throne and refused to come down. At first Jareth had thought just to leave him there, but having the little elf sitting somewhere above his head made him anxious.

"Come down at once or I'll throw you into an oubliette."

Legolas made a rude Sindarian comment to the effect of Jareth's being ugly and his mother dressing him funny.

"That one was definitely about my mother," Jareth muttered. "Look, come down and… ah… we'll play a game."

"What kinda game?" Legolas asked suspiciously.

Jareth cast about for a game to play and his eyes lighted upon a discarded chess board lying in a corner.

"Chess?" he suggested.

"What's that?"

"I'm not telling," Jareth said craftily. "You will have to come down and see for yourself." When Legolas still did not move he added, a bit desperately, "I'll give you a cookie if you win."

That got Legolas's attention, and the little elf wasted no time in turning and beginning to climb back down the metal plates. Coming down proved a bit more difficult than going up, however, and when his bare foot slipped it was only Jareth's arms that saved him from a nasty fall.

"Hi," he said, completely oblivious of the danger he had been in.

"Hello yourself."

"We gonna play now?"

"Yes."

Jareth had some goblins bring in a table and two chairs, and then sent them back out again to get some pillows for Legolas to sit on so that the elfling could actually reach the table. Jareth set the black and white checkered board between them.

"The first thing we need," he told Legolas, "are the pieces. Each side must have a king."

He placed his hand, palm down, upon his side of the board, and when he lifted it up again there stood an ebony figure of Jareth himself, dressed regally in a long sweeping cape and his usual tight shirt and breeches. He held his riding crop in one hand and a crystal in the other. Every detail was perfect, down to the creases in his clothes and the slight smile upon his face.

Then he reached across and did the same on Legolas's side of the board, creating an ivory figurine of Thranduil, dressed in his mithril corselet and breeches and armbands and carrying a sword. Legolas's mouth was an "O" of delight.

"Next we each need a queen," Jareth continued. On his own side he created the figure of a slim, slight girl with long hair, dressed in a shirt with wide sleeves, a vest, and pants.

"She should have a dress," Legolas said.

"I think she looks beautiful just the way she is," Jareth replied quietly. "What about your queen?"

"Make my nana!" Legolas requested, adding as an afterthought, "please."

So Jareth listened carefully to the description of Legolas's mother and after a few tries created a figure that suited the little elf.

Things continued on these amiable lines until the board was filled. On Jareth's side his king and queen were flanked by a pair of dragons, a pair of wolves, and two crooked-looking castles, which Legolas teased him about. His pawns were a row of goblins.

On Legolas's side stood the elfling's brother and sister as bishops, two horses as knights, and two straight and stalwart oaks as his rooks. His pawns were a row of short elves, and Jareth made one to resemble the little prince.

Jareth carefully explained the rules, although Legolas seemed more interested in examining the pieces than listening to the goblin king's instructions, and they began to play.

Jareth didn't pay much attention to the game itself, more interested in the great deliberation Legolas put into every move. The little elf bit his lip in concentration, considering for as long as several minutes before moving his piece, and often glancing up at Jareth through puzzling eyes when the goblin king made an unexpected move.

"I win," Legolas announced after a time.

"What?" Jareth had slouched in his chair and let his mind wander as they played, and he sat up at Legolas's sudden statement.

"Oh…" Legolas frowned in thought. "I mean check… check, ah… check…"

"Check mate?"

"Uh huh."

Jareth stared at the board, and sure enough, there was the little model of himself trapped between a rearing stallion and Legolas's sister. He blinked in surprise.

"You didn't tell me you'd played this game before."

"Didn't ask," Legolas retorted. "Cookie?"


	4. Chapter 4

Magic Dance in Middle Earth

_Welcome to Chapter 4! I apologize again for the long wait, I'll try to post fairly quickly from now on. _

**_Asyr_**_- It's always wonderful to get another reader. Thanks for the comments!_

**_Erestor_**_ – And thank you! I always try to review when I like a story because I know how nice it is to hear from readers._

_I always have trouble with many characterizations of Thranduil; people tend to write him temperamental, greedy, and, as you said, slightly crazy. I don't think he comes off that way in the books at all, and I honestly think that he must have been very cool and collected and smart to rule over __Greenwood__ for all those years. His subjects would never have survived through everything that happened in their land if their ruler hadn't been a very good one. Thranduil had no ring to protect his people; they had only their wits and their strength to rely on. I think their survival alone illustrates Thranduil's character immensely._

_As for Legolas, I'm very glad you like him. -pinches Little!Legolas's cheek- He's just precious, isn't he? He's been my favorite character since I first read the books in second grade, something about his youthfulness cheerfulness ("I go to find the sun!") coupled with his ability to kick serious yrch butt. I can hardly blame you for not having him as your favorite elf, thought, considering all the wonderful elves there are out there to choose from. :D_

_And Jareth, yes, it will be interesting to see how he copes with having a Sindar prince running around his throne room. After all, we saw how much trouble Thranduil had in Chapter One, and he has other children. But Jareth is very resourceful; he'll manage. Maybe._

_Yes, the Orli!Legolas fangirls would probably kill me if I let Jareth turn him into a goblin. -wicked gleam in eyes- Oh Leggy…._

_Yup, no ice cream in Middle Earth. They probably don't have chocolate either. -shakes head- Poor, poor elves (and men and dwarves and hobbits)._

**_Rhys – _**_Yes, kidnapping a five-year-old elf and making his father come rescue him is a bit different than kidnapping a human baby and making a teenage girl come get him, as Jareth is beginning to learn. But as I told Erestor, don't forget that this is the Goblin King we're talking about. He's a pretty formidable character himself. Enjoy the next chapter!_

**_Nightwoman_**_ – Yes, well, we shall see. –wink-hands over pocket Legolas-_

**_Pasha ToH_**_ – Sneaky little elf, isn't he?_

_Just a little note about this chapter: The last scene, except for the first two paragraphs, was written by everyone's favorite Jedi Wizard Hobbit, and she had a lot to do with the 'story' scene as well._

_And so, without further ado, I give you:_

Chapter 4

The shouting of tiny voices reached Thranduil's ears long before he saw the goblins.

"Try this for size, you big yeti!" they screeched. "We got you now, fuzzball!"

Thranduil peered around the corner of the hedge and saw several of Jareth's little imps, dressed in clumsy-looking armor and dancing around the form of a large creature that looked somewhat like a bear and somewhat like an ape and somewhat like something else entirely. The unfortunate creature was suspended upside down by ropes tied around its limbs as the goblins assailed it with long poles on top of which clung small fleshy-pink creatures with piranha-like teeth. The poor beast howled as the sharp teeth nipped at its flesh.

Making a quick decision, Thranduil stepped into the clearing. So intent were the goblins upon their prey that they didn't even notice him, continuing to torment the captive and to speak in sentences that sounded to Thranduil like little more than gibberish.

"Nippy, nippy, nip, nip! Bite him on the teriyaki! Saki to him! Saki to him!"

Thranduil cleared his throat loudly.

"Ahem!"

The little creatures spun around.

"Yiii!" they cried. "Attack!"

They ran at him, their little biting stick-creatures pointed at his stomach, which was as high as they could reach. Thranduil took the stick effortlessly from the first creature and, with a few sweeping blows, knocked them all to the ground.

"Ack! Run away!" the goblins got to their feet as best they could and scattered, tripping and falling and whacking each other with their sticks as they went.

"Oh, my aching sushi!" Thranduil heard one exclaim as they disappeared behind the hedges.

The elven king stepped closer to the captive beast, which roared in anger and fear at his approach.

"Do not fear," Thranduil murmured softly in his own tongue. "You are safe now."

The beast stilled at Thranduil's gentle tone, but did not seem to understand the elvish words.

"There now," he said, switching back to common. "Just be still and I will get you down."

"Luuuuddohhh, dowwnnn," the creature moaned.

"Ludo?" Thranduil questioned. "Is that your name?"

"Luuuddddohhhh," the beast said again.

Thranduil went to where the rope Ludo hung from was tied around a thick tree root. He glanced back at the beast, trying to judge just how much the huge creature must weigh. Then he bent to untie the knot, and as the rope came free he grabbed it in both hands and haled downward with all his strength, stopping Ludo's descent a moment before the creature hit the ground. He felt a muscle in his back wrench and he was pulled forward by the weight of the beast and Ludo dropped the last few inches to land with a gentle thump. The creature scrambled awkwardly into a sitting position as Thranduil walked over to him.

"Ai, you are a heavy beast Ludo," he said, stretching.

"Friend…?" Ludo asked, looking at the elf through dark beady eyes set deep under heavy brows.

"Yes, I suppose so," the elf agreed. "I am called Thranduil."

"Thhhrraaanndooolll, frrrrieeeennndd."

"Close enough," the elf king said, and helped Ludo to scramble awkwardly to his feet.

"I suppose it is too much to hope that you know the way through this labyrinth," he commented when Ludo was at last safely (Thranduil hoped. The creature seemed a bit top-heavy.) on his feet once more.

Ludo shook his head, then nodded, then tilted his chin to one side and looked puzzled.

"I thought as much." Before he could say or do anything else, the ground suddenly opened up beneath him and he tumbled downward into a hole.

**…..**

Legolas sat in Jareth's lap, munching contentedly, and the goblin king smiled down on the golden head indulgently.

"Such a lively little chap," he remarked to no one in particular. "I think I'll call him Toby."

"What?" Legolas looked up from his half-eaten cookie.

"Oh dear," Jareth frowned. "We seem to have stumbled into a plot hole."

"What?"

"Your father. He's fallen into a plot hole. Oh, this is too perfect."

He stood and snapped his fingers, and three goblins came running over to him.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Rope."

The goblins scurried away and returned quickly with several feet of strong rope. Jareth loped one end around the foot of his throne and tied it tightly in several strong knots. The other end he secured around Legolas's ankle.

"Hey!" Legolas exclaimed.

Jareth ignored him, testing the knots to make sure the tether would not come loose.

"I have had enough of chasing you around," Jareth told him. "Now I know you will stay put until I get back."

He ruffled Legolas's hair and disappeared as the little elf began to tug on his bindings.

**…..**

Thranduil wasn't sure exactly how it happened. One moment he was standing on solid ground, the next it was giving way beneath him and he was tumbling down into a deep hole. He stood quickly, brushing dirt from his hair and looking around. The hole was about seven feet wide and twelve feet deep. Ludo's hairy face peered over the edge.

"Thhhrraaanndooolll, dowwwnnn."

"It would seem so," Thranduil agreed.

He put his hand against the side of the hole. The earth was loose and slippery, and would be tremendously difficult to scale, but he had little choice in the matter. Resolutely he set himself to climb it.

It was slow going, but after a while Thranduil saw that he was beginning to gain height. He was almost to the top and Ludo's reaching hand when the side of the hole suddenly crumbled and fell away, and he slid down to fall on his back upon the ground.

"Ludo," he said as he pulled himself up and brushed the dirt of his seat, "Would you kindly go look for a rope, or a tree branch, or perhaps a vine that you could lower down to help me out of this hole?"

"'Kaaaaayyyy," Ludo said, and lumbered out of view.

With nothing else to do, Thranduil attempted to climb the side of the hole again to similar results as his first attempt.

"That won't work," an amused voice behind him said in the midst of his third try. Startled, Thranduil turned and slid awkwardly down again, thankful that his elven balance allowed stopped him from tumbling on his face at the feet of Jareth, who had materialized in the middle of the hole.

"Have you a better suggestion?" he inquired calmly, surreptitiously brushing the dirt from his hands.

"No."

"Then you may go now," Thranduil said, turning away to look back at the wall of the hole. It seemed to him that Jareth's face smirked back at him in the loose dirt. "You know, I see your face around this maze a great deal. A bit narcissistic, aren't we?"

"You should talk," Jareth drawled. "How many times do you brush your hair each night? Two thousand? Three thousand? Ah, but no doubt you have servants to do it for you."

"At least my subjects are large enough to hold a brush."

"And no doubt they all sing like you do. No wonder your race is immortal, you'd have a difficult time repopulating yourselves otherwise."

Thranduil could think of no reply, so great was his rage.

"Your wife must have a hard time of it."

"My wife could kill you with one hand," Thranduil sneered.

"You should be thankful your wife didn't come down here after your darling son. If she had, I just might have been forced to seduce her."

"I would love to see you try."

"Oh, I don't really think you would. Now, are you curious as to where we are at the moment?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Well, that _is _a pity, because you have little choice in the matter at the moment. You cannot get out of a plot hole."

"A what?" Thranduil asked, despite himself.

"A plot hole," Jareth said again. "It's when the writers can't… oh never mind. The point is that you cannot get out of it. You can climb all you want; it will all be in vain."

"You will forgive me if I don't take your word for it," Thranduil said dryly.

"The wall will just keep crumbling away," Jareth continued, shaking his head. "You will just have to sit here until the plot hole decides to resolve itself." He shook his head. "Sounds dreadfully boring. I don't think I will stay around, but if you ask me nicely perhaps I'll send someone interesting to keep you company."

"Go kiss an orc," was the Sindarian reply.

"That one was definitely _not _about my mother."

"It seems to me," Thranduil said, "that the successful navigation of this maze is more dependant upon luck than skill. If I were lord here, I can assure you it would not be such."

"Yes, I'm sure," Jareth replied, and disappeared.

**…..**

Jareth returned to find Legolas exactly where he had left him, seated in the goblin king's throne with a pout on his lips and his little arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh come, you brought it upon yourself you know," Jareth told him.

Legolas stuck out his tongue.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. The goblins might come and bite it off."

Legolas swiftly returned his tongue to the inside of his mouth and closed his lips tightly. He was forced to open them a moment later in a huge yawn.

Jareth remembered that it was well past the prince's bed time, and even Legolas's energy had to be exhausted eventually. He retrieved one of the pillows from Legolas's chair and placed it beside Legolas on the throne.

"I think it is time for you to go to sleep, Legolas," he said.

Legolas shook his head vehemently.

"Oh come, you'll feel so much better after a good rest."

"Don't wanna sleep."

Jareth sighed. Nothing was ever easy.

"Shall I tell you a story?" he asked.

Legolas looked up at him.

"'Kay."

So Jareth sat down in the chair and set Legolas in his lap and searched his mind for an appropriate story. Finally he settled on one that had been his favorite, long ago when he was a child.

"This is the story of the three little pigs and the big bad wolf," he began.

"Pigs?" asked Legolas, scrunching up his nose in confusion.

"Yes. You know, little fat pink animals. Four short legs, flat snout, curly tail. Makes a noise like 'oink.'"

"Oink?"

"Yes, oink." Apparently animal noises didn't translate well. Jareth glanced furtively around the room, assuring himself that there was no one else around, and then snorted demonstratively.

"Oh," Legolas said at once. "I know." He laid his head on Jareth's chest as the story continued.

"Once upon a time there were three little pigs who were brothers, and they decided they would each build a house to live in."

"What were their names?" Legolas asked.

"What? Oh, ah… they didn't have any."

"Yes they did," Legolas countered. "Everybody has a name."

"Ah, well… their names were Jasper, Augustus, and… ah…"

"Carnim."

"What?"

"Carnim," Legolas repeated. "Pig color."

Jareth rolled his eyes. A story about three pigs named Jasper, Augustus, and Pink. What had he gotten himself into?

"The problem was that it isn't easy for pigs to build anything, because they don't have hands. So Jasper decided he would make his house out of straw because it would not be as much work and then he would have more time to play in the mud."

Legolas giggled.

"Augustus decided he would build his house out of sticks, which were almost as easy as straw, but would keep out the rain better."

Another giggle, but this one sleepier.

"But, ah… Carnim, who was the smartest of the three, decided to build his house out of bricks. It would take a long time, but the house would be sturdy and strong and safe. His brothers soon finished their houses and laughed at him because he had to work so hard, but Carnim ignored them and finally he had a good strong house.

"It just so happened that one dark night soon after Carnim finished his house a big bad wolf came to the place where the pigs lived."

"What was his name?"

"Brutus."

"That's a silly name."

"It's Roman, Shakespeare… oh, never mind. The big bad wolf, who shall remain nameless, was very hungry, so he went to Jasper's house and knocked on the door and said;" here Jareth pitched his voice low, "'Little pig, little pig, let me come in.' And Jasper answered;" here Jareth pitched his voice high and squeaky 'not by the hair on my chiny-chin-chin.'

"And the wolf," he continued in a normal voice "who was very hungry indeed, huffed and puffed and blew the straw house down and ate Jasper in one bite."

Legolas had gone very still in Jareth's arms, and the goblin king hoped that the little elf was asleep.

"When he finished the big bad wolf was still rather hungry, so he went to Augustus's straw house and knocked upon its door, saying; 'Little pig, little pig, let me come in.' 'Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin.'

"So the big bad wolf huffed and puffed and blew the stick house down and ate Augustus as he tried to run away.

"Now the big bad wolf was beginning to feel full, but he was also feeling greedy so he went to Carnim's house and knocked on the door. 'Little pig, little pig, let me come in.' 'Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin.'

"So the big bad wolf huffed and he puffed but he couldn't blow the sturdy little brick house down, and all that huffing and puffing on a full stomach gave him a cramp and he died. The end."

Jareth waited a moment to see if Legolas was indeed asleep, and was surprised when the elf sat up. The sea gray eyes were swimming and his lower lip was trembling in an alarming fashion.

"He _ate _them?"

_Oh no_ Jareth thought. Out loud he said;

"You're missing the point. The moral of the story is; if you are stupid you get eaten."

Legolas's chin was quivering as well now. Tears leaked from his eyes and trickled down his cheeks, dripping off the end of his chin.

Panicking, Jareth spluttered;

"Alright, I lied. They decided to talk it out and settle their differences, and the pigs made the big bad wolf some fried chicken and they all went to live happily every after in a castle in the sky."

"Really?" Legolas asked, scrubbing at his wet face with his sleeve.

"No. He ate them."

Legolas started to sob. Unable to cope, Jareth snapped his fingers and three goblins appeared a moment later.

"Please take it," he said, handing the bawling elf to his minions. "I am going to visit Thranduil."

**…..**

Thranduil sank wearily to the ground, dirt smeared across his face and on his hands. It was as Jareth said; try as he might he could not climb out of the plot hole. Ludo had not returned from his quest for rope, and Thranduil wondered if perhaps the beast had gotten lost in the Labyrinth.

He dropped his head into his hands wearily. He was never one to become downtrodden when circumstances were dire, but unless some incredible solution presented itself right in front of his nose, he could think of nothing else to try. He pressed his fingers into his face, hoping the action would clear his head and allow him to think easier.

A cry broke through the air from above. Thranduil lifted his head sharply and tilted it to hear better. He didn't need to – the sound of that cry was in no way alien to him. His resolve hardened again when he thought of where his son was at that moment, whose hands he was in. _If he returns to me again,_ Thranduil thought, _I will make the goblin king know what price a man must pay for making the son of an elven king cry._

Thranduil stood up again with new determination permeating his being. He had just moved to the dirt wall to resume his attempts at escape, when he heard voices nearby. But they were not above him, as they should have been. Instead, they seemed to be coming through the dirt ramparts that kept him imprisoned.

_"When the sun goes down, And the bats are back to bed, The brothers come 'round. I get out of my dirty bed. I shake my pretty little head. Tap my pretty little feet. Feeling brighter than sunlight, Louder than thunder, Bouncing like a yo-yo, wooh!"_

The disembodied voices appeared in the plot hole alongside Thranduil as if they'd materialized out of thin air. They were odd looking creatures whose feathers and skin took on a shade of orange-red. Beaks protruded from their faces, strangely complimenting their long limbs and vacant, wild eyes.

"Who are you?" Thranduil asked warily.

He received no response. The singing, however, continued.

_"Don't got no problems.  
Ain't got no suitcase.  
Ain't got no clothes to worry about.  
Ain't got no real estate or jewelry or gold mines to hang me up."_

Thranduil was confused. Some of words and phrases mentioned in the song were familiar to him, such as 'jewelry' and 'gold mines', but he was at a loss when it came to expressions like 'suitcase' and 'real estate'. He held up a hand to indicate that he wanted their attention, then leapt back in shock when a fire flared up unexpectedly at his toes. One of the creatures proceeded to remove his hand from his body and throw it into the fire. Thranduil watched open-mouthed.

_"I just throw in my hand With the chilliest bunch in the land."_

Thranduil calmed down when the creature's hand appeared again, in its proper place. He assumed that it was probably just a trick of the eye such as he had once seen a 'magician' in Lake Town do, although a much more convincing one.

_"They don't look much,  
They sure chilly chilly,  
They positively glow glow, huh!"_

The elven king again tried to get their attention. "I beg your pardon, but do any of you know how I might be able to get out of this… ah, plot hole?"

Again he received no response, unless the creatures had intended to respond by starting to dance madly and remove other various limbs from their bodies. Thranduil shook his head. It wasn't some foolish trick, they were actually removing their limbs and tossing them back and forth. Their heads bobbed up and down in time to the music – literally.

One of them grabbed hold of the elf lord and tugged him around in an attempt to get him to dance with them. Thranduil wrenched himself from its grasp. "Answer me!" he demanded.

"Hey man," one piped in. "Just go with it. Listen to the music, it's all you got's ta know!"

_"Chilly down with the fire gang.__ Think small with the fire gang."_

Thranduil tried to listen, but the music didn't make any sense. "Chilly down?"

_"Bad hep with the fire gang.__ When your thing gets wild"_

"What thing?"

_"Chilly down, chilly down with the fire gang.  
Act tall with the fire gang."_

"I _am_ tall!"

_"Good times, bad food."_

"This does not help me!"

_"When your thing gets wild  
Chilly down, chilly down."_

Thranduil opened his mouth to interject again, but before he could utter a sound one of the creatures began to speak very swiftly to the music.

_"Drive you crazy, really lazy, eye rollin', funky strollin',  
Ball playin', hip swayin', trouble makin', booty shakin',  
Tripping, passing, jumping bouncing,  
Drivin', stylin', creeping, pouncing,  
Shoutin', screamin' double dealin',  
Rockin', rollin', and a reelin'.  
With the mackin' sex appealin'.  
Can you dig our groovy feelin'?"_

Thranduil's mind was spinning from the rapidity of the words. In combination with the irreverence of their rhymes (certainly not the sort of matters that one would be permitted to sing about in his kingdom), it was giving him a headache and making him very irritable.

"Tell me something useful you mindless animals!"

_"So when things get too tough,  
And your chin is dragging on the ground,  
And even down looks up,"_

Thranduil's pointed ears perked up. It sounded like they were on the brink of telling him something helpful.

_"Bad luck."_

Or not.

_"We can show you a good time,  
And we don't charge nut'in'.  
Just strut your nasty stuff,"_

The elven king didn't even want to contemplate what the meaning of _that_ was.

_"Wiggle in the middle, yeah,  
Get the town talkin', fire gang.  
Chilly down with the fire gang.  
T'ink small with the fire gang.  
Bad hep with the fire gang.  
When your thing gets wild,  
Chilly down, chilly down with the fire gang.  
Think small with the fire gang.  
Good times, bad food.  
When your thing gets wild,  
Chilly down, chilly down with the fire gang.  
Think small with the fire gang.  
Bad hep with the fire gang."_

The creature's dancing had gotten more frantic as the song had built up, and now limbs were littering the inside of the plot hole, chasing after their bodies. Once they had gotten themselves back together, they all seemed to make the decision to gang up on Thranduil. They clambered up his arms and legs, and one of them grabbed hold of his head.

"Get off of me this instant!" the elf demanded.

"Hey! His head don't come off!"

"No it doesn't," Thranduil affirmed, grasping the annoying creature, lifting it off his shoulders and throwing it to the ground. "And if you do not desist from this foolishness at once and leave me in peace I shall cast a spell to permanently affix all of your heads to your hairy little bodies!"

The creatures abruptly let go and scampered to the other side of the plot hole to hide behind a newly materialized figure. "Now, that wasn't very nice," came the silky, familiar voice. "Can you really do that?"

The elven king stiffened. "What are you doing here?"

Jareth shrugged and the beginnings of that mocking smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "You seemed to be getting a bit frazzled. I do hope you're all right. I really can't understand why these harmless little fireys would bother you."

"Well, perhaps you can persuade them to talk sense," Thranduil spat. He suddenly remembered what he heard coming from the Goblin King's castle. Anger flared up in him quicker than usual due to the strange episode he had just witnessed. "You have been making my son cry!" He stepped toward the goblin king menacingly.

Jareth's eyes darted quickly around the plot hole and he took a small precautionary step back. He would have been worried about further injury to his face but he saw a very easy way out of this confrontation. "I did nothing of the sort. He started crying on his own. After all, he does miss you. He's wondering why you haven't saved him yet. That's why he started crying."

Thranduil paused, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. Jareth took the opportunity to continue their previous line of conversation. "What precisely were the fireys saying that confused you so?"

The elven king's head snapped up again, the corners of his eyes creased with annoyance. "Nothing made any sense. Talking about 'chilly-ing down' and comments such as 'when your thing gets wild'."

Jareth grinned. "Oh, I know why you didn't understand _that _statement." He watched Thranduil stare intently at him as he raised two fingers in the air and made a snipping motion. The elf's eyes widened in fury, but this time he made no comment regarding the insult.

"Perhaps then, you'd also care to explain to me what 'real estate' is."

The Goblin King looked positively gleeful that he seemed to be winning this round, and he shook his head, waving a dismissing hand in the air. "No, then I would have to explain too many concepts to you, such as mortgages and property-"

"Property?" Thranduil cut in, his voice growing louder with each word. "Property? Clearly you have no concept of the word property either, or you would not steal _other people's children!_"

But Jareth was not phased by the elven king's outburst this time.

"Then you contest that your son is your property? I find that to be rather unfair. Your son is his own person, he does not belong to you. You are merely responsible for him, which seems to be too difficult a task for you since you've not been doing your job very well." He raised a hand and snapped his gloved fingers, causing the fireys to leave in a hurry. "I think I'll just leave to let you think about that," the Goblin King said amusedly. Soon his figure was replaced by that of an owl, which flew out of the plot hole leaving Thranduil alone once more.

**….**


	5. Chapter 5

_Once again, it has taken me forever to get this chapter posted. Many apologies, as usual, and I promise that the next chapter (also the last) will be much more prompt._

**_asyr_**_ – I'm glad you approve. Here's the next update, not soon, but hopefully worth the wait._

**_Pasha ToH_**_ – Thanks, glad I made you laugh._

**_Nightwoman_**_ – Well, I wouldn't complain!_

**_Navaer_****_ Lalaith_**_ – I do understand your concerns about the accuracy, and so I have decided to go through the entire story and remove all the elvish. Please don't think that I don't appreciate your efforts to help me improve it, but I think that in the end this is a better idea. Thanks for sticking with the story anyway._

_Quick note: From the onward written by the Jedi Wizard Hobbit._

_And so it continues…_

**Chapter 5**

Thranduil was a very stubborn person, even for an elf, and ordinarily would have rotted in that hole before he could bring himself to call for help. This, however, was not an ordinary situation, and it was not only Thranduil's own life that was at stake, but Legolas's as well. After calling for Ludo several times and receiving no answer he closed his eyes and reached out with his mind for the one other person in this Labyrinth he knew he could trust.

Hoggle, wandering rather aimlessly around the Labyrinth, was startled by a sudden voice inside his head.

_Hoggle_ it whispered. _Hoggle__, can you hear me?_

"Thranduil?" he said aloud, as he glanced around, expecting the elf to be standing somewhere nearby. But there was no one, only the voice in his mind.

_Hoggle__, if you can hear me, I need your help. I am trapped, and if I cannot free myself my son will be Jareth's prisoner forever. Please, Hoggle, help me._

The voice faded away, and Hoggle blinked.

"Thranduil's in trouble! I have to help him!"

As he turned around, he noticed a figure leaning against a nearby boulder. "What are you doing, Hogbrain?"

Hoggle put his hands behind his back and tried to look as unassuming as possible. "Me? Why nothin', Your Majesty, nothin' at all."

The Goblin King raised one of his upturned eyebrows at the small dwarf before him. "Really? For a moment it looked like you were going to help the elf. But you couldn't have been, you would never disobey me."

Hoggle nodded furiously. "Of course not, Your Majesty. Never, never in a million years! I was just going to find him to lead him back to the beginning of the labyrinth."

Jareth ignored the feeling of deja-vu that had been creeping over him during the conversation. A crystal appeared in his right hand. "Give him this."

He tossed the crystal to Hoggle, but when the dwarf opened his hand to examine it, he found a peach resting there.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's a peach."

Hoggle just looked at the goblin king.

"Hmm, that is probably sending the wrong message, isn't it?" Jareth mused, approaching him and kneeling down to Hoggle's eye level. He swiped his hand over the peach and Hoggle looked down to find a banana instead. The Goblin King shook his head. "No, all sorts of bad symbolism would be associated with that. What about…" He swiped his hand over the banana, this time leaving an apple in its place.

Jareth grinned. "You don't suppose Thranduil will know the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, do you? No, I'm sure such frivolous tales are missing from his great kingdom. Such a pity…" He stood up and began walking away from Hoggle.

"It won't hurt him, will it?" Hoggle asked.

The Goblin King spun back round to face him. "Why do you care? He's certainly not concerned about you, or he wouldn't have called for your help in an attempt to bring down my wrath upon you."

Hoggle didn't believe that for one second, but he didn't protest. The dwarf turned around to leave.

"Oh, and Hoggle?"

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"If he insults me behind my back again, I shall throw you into the Pit of Despair."

"The what?"

Jareth neatly sidestepped the plot hole.

"Now now, no time for that," he said, patting Hoggle's back to hurry him along. "You have an elf to enchant, remember?"

Hoggle turned around again with a groan, and went to find some rope to get Thranduil out of the plot hole.

-

Thranduil did not know if he had even been able to reach the dwarf, or if it could even be done, for he had never before attempted a connection between any but his own people, and rarely had he done even that. He had almost given up hope of ever seeing the top of the plot hole again, when rope was suddenly tossed down, hitting him on the head.

"Ai! What on Arda…"

"Quick, grab the rope! I'm getting you out of here!"

The elven king smiled for the first time in hours. "Hoggle! Am I relieved to see you!"

The dwarf's craggy face peered over the edge of the plot hole and quickly pulled back. "No time for talk, grab the rope!"

Thranduil did as he was told, and soon he was standing on firm ground outside the plot hole. He looked down at the small dwarf who had saved him and smiled at him fondly. "I am indebted to you, Hoggle. If there is ever anything I can do for you, you need only to ask."

Hoggle waved an arm at him, as if to brush off the promise. "Don't worry about it. I couldn't leave that son of yours in the hands of a man like that."

Anger flared up in Thranduil once more as he thought of the man who had left him for dead in the plot hole. "That slimy, evil…"

Hoggle waved his hands frantically to stop Thranduil from making a great mistake, but the elf didn't notice.

"…foolish, arrogant…"

He had lapsed off into angry Sindarian when, for the third time that day, the stone beneath their feet proved less solid then they had supposed as trap door that opened up suddenly to reveal a dark, nearly vertical tunnel. Thranduil, however, had had enough of falling and holes, and as this one was not very wide he managed to throw his arms out and catch himself on the sides of the mouth of the tunnel. He heard Hoggle's shout of surprise as the dwarf was unable to stop his own fall.

The dwarf's grunts and noises of pain as he tumbled downward drifted up to Thranduil, as did a terribly unpleasant smell. The elf king sniffed delicately and wished he hadn't, nearly retching at the pungent stench. It smelt rather as if the last person to fall down the hole had possessed very poor hygiene indeed, and had then died in the pit and was still there.

_And I thought Isildur was an unfortunate individual,_ he mused.

His thoughts were interrupted by a panicked shouting from Hoggle.

"Ah, help! I'm going to fall! Ack, help me!"

The last thing Thranduil wanted was to slide down into a repugnant hole in order to rescue a dwarf, but Hoggle had helped him out of the plot hole, and Thranduil was nothing if not honorable to a fault. He owed the dwarf a debt, and nothing, not even dead Isildurs, would deter him from repaying it. Taking a deep breath of the clean air above the hole he lifted his arms and let himself slide down the smooth tunnel.

It was a long way down, and Thranduil had built up a great deal of speed by the time he saw a light below his feet. He put out his arms to slow his decent, grazing his palms on the stone but slowing enough that he didn't shoot out of the opening when he reached it. He caught hold of the side of the rock and stopped his fall as the smell assaulted his sensitive nose.

"Ai Eru!" he exclaimed, clapping his hand over his face. "What in the name of the Valar is _that_? Never in all my years have I smelt anything so…" he grasped the edge of the hole more tightly as his elven senses reeled from the onslaught of the terrible odor. "It is like, like…" he groped for an appropriate comparison.

"Never mind what it's like!" Hoggle squawked. "It's the Bog of Eternal Stench. Oh, _help_!"

But the elven poet in Thranduil would not be put off.

"I imagine you could achieve a similar odor if you were to feed a dozen yrch rotten fish for a month," he said at last, "and then slay them and cast them into one of the sulfur pits of Mordor atop a three week old Oliphant carcass and cover the remains with the contents of a troll's stomach."

"And I am going to fall into the bog and smell like all that stuff for the rest of my life!" Hoggle reminded him.

"Oh yes," Thranduil said. Keeping one hand over his nose he reached down with the other and grasped Hoggle's wrist, lifting him effortlessly up. He started to put the dwarf down, then thought better of it and walked the rest of the way across the ledge to a place where there was ground beneath them instead of bog. There was also a very large, very hairy figure below them.

"Ludo!" Thranduil exclaimed as he leapt down beside the beast and set Hoggle back on his feet once more. "How did you happen into this vile place?"

"Ah, uh…" Ludo shrugged. "Dunno."

"Is this, er, fine fellow a friend of yours, Thranduil?" Hoggle asked, peaking out at Ludo from where he had hidden behind the elf king's legs.

"Oh, yes Hoggle," Thranduil assured the dwarf. "Don't be frightened."

"Thhhrraaanndoool, frieeennndd" Ludo affirmed. He turned beady eyes upon the elf. "Smeelllll."

"It most certainly does, and horridly too" Thranduil agreed, pinching his nose delicately. 'Come, let us find passage out of this swamp. I believe I see a bridge."

Dwarf and beast followed the elf toward the bridge, navigating the sometimes rough and narrow path with varying degrees of difficulty.

"Watch it," Hoggle advised as Ludo's large feet nearly slipped into the putrid bog. "You step in this stuff and you'll stink forever."

They had edged their way around the bog and made it to a bridge that would lead them out of it. As they were about to cross a voice halted them.

"Stop where you are! Stop I say!"

Thranduil looked around, but could see no one. It wasn't until the voice cleared its throat that his eyes traveled down to a small fox standing by the bridge. He nearly laughed aloud. The animal was dressed in elaborate clothing, more colorful and intricate than he had seen any king of men wear. A blue hat sat on his brow and a yellow feather stuck up from it.

"And why must we stop?" the elf enquired.

"I, Sir Didymus, have sworn an oath that none shall pass this bridge without my permission! Therefore, stop where you are!"

But Thranduil no longer had the patience to match wits and words with every odd creature that happened across his path. He drew himself up regally, every inch majesty and nobility, despite the fact that he was nearly reeling from the stench.

"And I, Thranduil Oropherion, King of Taur-nu-Fuin and Lord of the Elves of the Wood, Prince of the Sindar of the Great Forest, command you to give us passage _at once_!"

Sir Didymus's eyes widened and his tiny jaw dropped. He pulled his hat from his head and bowed low before the elven king.

"My Lord, if I had but known! You are the very model of a great king, the one whom I was always meant to serve. I offer my services at once, and I hope you will forgive my unspeakable behavior and impudence."

Thranduil nodded. "I accept your apology, but you need not offer your service. Allowing us to pass is service enough."

The small animal threw himself in front of the king. "Oh please, sir! I must be allowed to fight valiantly at your side, or there is no sense in my living! I have sworn to uphold what is good and right in the world, and I can see that you are the embodiment of justice! Allow me to stay at your side!"

Thranduil sighed and looked to Ludo and Hoggle. The dwarf offered no assistance and Ludo merely shrugged. The elven king had a sneaking suspicion that the tiny creature would not allow them to leave without him.

"Very well, you may accompany us on our quest."

Sir Didymus's eyes shone at the king's words. "A quest? How wonderful! The stars must have placed themselves rightly for our meeting, Lord. I would be greatly honored to help you in your quest. May I ask what you are journeying for?"

Thranduil looked into the distance at the castle beyond the Goblin City. "I must retrieve my son from the goblin king who has stolen him."

Sir Didymus barked in rage. "The madman has stolen thine young offspring? That miserable cad will pay for his grievous mistake! I shall fight him to the death!"

Thranduil looked down at the small knight sternly. "You will do nothing of the sort. I accept your help until I reach the castle. The quest is mine to complete and mine alone."

Sir Didymus looked downtrodden for a moment, but he perked up again at the thought of the quest ahead. "As you wish, my noble lord. Anything for thee."

"Very well then. We must continue, I fear we have already lingered here too long."

Sir Didymus turned around to a tree that stood next to the bridge. He whistled loudly. "Ambrosius! Ambrosius, come here at once, we have a quest to undertake!"

A shaggy head peered from behind the tree, and slowly a white and gray dog with a saddle on its back emerged. The fox quickly mounted his steed and started off at a quick pace, Thranduil's eyebrows arched nearly to his hairline as his eyes followed the odd pair.

Sir Didymus and Hoggle crossed the bridge with ease. Thranduil had no doubt that he would be able to cross as well, since he stepped lightly on elven feet, but the bridge did not look nearly stable enough, nor wide enough, for Ludo. The elven king turned to the beast.

"I do not know how you might cross in safety, my friend," he said.

In response, Ludo raised his head and roared. Thranduil was just about to try to stop the emotional outburst when he saw boulders beginning to rise from the bog. Once they had risen completely, the elven king turned to stare at the beast.

"However did you do that?"

Ludo blinked gently. "Rocks friends."

This wasn't a tremendously difficult for an elf, who communed with much of nature, to comprehend, so Thranduil only nodded and started across the bridge, Ludo lumbering after him across the boulders. When they were all safely on the other side they continued their journey into another dense forest. Thranduil felt right at home in the lush setting; it reminded him of his own kingdom, and he wondered what a forest such as this was doing at the center of a goblin king's labyrinth. _Mayhap Jareth enjoys moonlit strolls_, he mused to himself sarcastically.

After walking for a long time, Thranduil was beginning to feel hungry. He realized that it had been more than a day since he had last eaten, as he hadn't had time on the day that Legolas had been taken.

"I wonder if we can find berries or something of that nature," he said quietly.

Hoggle apparently heard him. "Your Majesty? Uh, here." From a pouch at his side, he withdrew a shiny, delicious-looking red apple. He handed it to Thranduil tentatively.

The elven king took the fruit and smiled. "My thanks to you, Master Hoggle."

Thranduil took a large bite from the apple and began to chew, noticing something strange as he swallowed. The juices seemed to turn from sweet to bitter at the back of his throat, and his mouth felt suddenly dry. He turned back to the dwarf.

"Hoggle?"

The dwarf hung his head in shame and quickly hurried away.

Thranduil did not have much more time to think before he was swallowed up in darkness.

-

Thranduil awoke in the middle of a large trash heap. He lifted his head wearily and tried to determine where he was. _Ai, my head,_ he moaned silently._ Mithrandir warned me about the Halflings' pipe weed, but did I listen?_

He hoisted himself to his feet, lost his footing from getting up too fast, and fell over ungracefully. This time he landed against something that moved. A strange figure with a huge heap of trash on its back turned to face him.

"Why don't you look where you're going?"

Thranduil shook his head at the creature, which he assumed was a woman due to its voice. "I beg you're pardon, madam, I…" His voice trailed off as he attempted to remember what had happened to him. "I had the strangest dream. I dreamt that I was in a large ballroom with all sorts of vile people who were dancing and drinking and wearing these odd, grotesque masks. They laughed at me, but I started stepping on their toes as they danced, which made them stop. The goblin king was there as well, with his face all painted, and I think he was singing about the world coming to an end." He frowned. "And I was wearing this fluffy white dress…."

A cry could be heard from the castle beyond the Goblin City.

"_Wrong damn crystal!_"

Thranduil looked down at his right hand and noticed that he held an apple with a large bite in it. A worm crawled from the center. He quickly tossed it away and turned back to the strange creature that he had fallen into.

"I'm terribly sorry. I'm looking for something…" he paused suddenly as he realized that he couldn't remember what. "What was I looking for?"

"Just follow me, I'll show you," the trash lady said, motioning for him to join her. Thranduil went after her as she led him into a large pile of trash that seemed to have a door sticking out from it.

"Go inside, you'll find what you were looking for," the creature told him in a slippery voice. Thranduil didn't like what he was hearing, but he went inside anyway.

He realized that he had somehow entered the treasure room to his kingdom. Gold, silver, and mithril shone from every crevice, every wall. Armor fit for kings, jewel encrusted chalices, swords with precious runes carved on the blades, all of these things glimmered in their proper places. The elven king looked upon the treasure proudly.

"Yes, this is what I was looking for."

He stood there for a few minutes admiring the riches, until seemingly out of nowhere, he heard voices approaching him.

"Stand aside, good woman! We must rescue yonder lord so that he may complete his quest!"

"You can't go in there! Keep away, both of you!"

"Thrraaaandool… quest!"

"All right then, if you insist. Ambrosius, _charge_!"

The door to the trove came crashing open as Sir Didymus sallied in on his noble steed. He arrived at Thranduil's side, a bit out of breath.

"We have come to save you, my lord. Now you may go forth and retrieve what is most valuable to you."

Thranduil looked at the tiny animal in amusement. He seemed somehow familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on why.

"I do not need to leave this room then, good sir. Everything that I value most is right here. This place is filled with the treasures of my kingdom."

Sir Didymus's mouth hung open. "But sir! You must complete your valiant quest! Dost thou not remember why you are in this evil place?"

Thranduil shook his head.

"Evil? There is nothing evil here. Nothing but priceless riches worth more than you could possibly fathom. Do you know the qualities of mithril?"

The tiny knight's brow furrowed. "I'faith I do not, but I need not look on it long to know that it is trash!"

The elven king was astonished by the creature's words.

"How can you say that? Mithril is one of the most valuable substances on Middle Earth.."

One of the walls came crashing down as Ludo entered the room. "Thrrraaaandool… quest!"

"Yes, the quest!" Sir Didymus barked. "You must complete your quest! And I say that you are a coward and a most pathetic man indeed if thou does not save thine young offspring!"

Thranduil blinked. "What did you say?"

"I said thou art a coward if thou dost not save thine offspring!"

"Offspring," Thranduil said aloud, trying to remember what was lost and buried in his mind. "Offspring…. Legolas! Ai, I must find my son!"

Soon the walls were collapsing down around them, and the trio quickly reemerged from the garbage cavern. Thranduil stared around him. "Where are we?"

"We are nearly at the gates of the Goblin City, Lord!" Sir Didymus pointed his spear to indicate a large gate perhaps a hundred yards away.

The elven king sighed. "Then that is our road."

He began to trek across the large dump, but stopped when he heard Ambrosius whimper. Smiling softly, he knelt down to the dog and stroked his head. Whispering softly until the dog stopped trembling and gave the elven king's face a canine kiss. Sir Didymus was astounded. "My Lord, canst thou speak with the animals?"

Thranduil straightened up. "I can indeed, Sir Didymus."

"Thrrraaaandool… talk… to… steeed!"

"You amaze me, my lord! You are truly an honorable and noble king."

Thranduil looked to the city gates and sighed. "That remains to be seen; I have yet to retrieve my son. Are you ready to complete our quest?"

"Without hesitation, my lord! Lead the way!"

As the trio set out again, they did not notice Hoggle listening in on their conversation. The dwarf, determined to make up for what he had done to Thranduil, followed behind them in secret to the gates of the Goblin City.


	6. Chapter 6

_Well, here it is folks, the sixth and final chapter. Once more, I hope it was worth the wait._

**_asyr_**_ –Thank you so much for being such a faithful reader/reviewer. I can't tell you how good it makes me feel to read your comments, especially your one for chapter five. I'm glad you liked it; personally chapter six is my favorite, because it has lots of action (although it isn't as funny) so you will have to let me know what you think!_

_And now, the finale.__ Many, many thanks to the Jedi Wizard Hobbit for making the terrible ending just perfect!_

Chapter 6

The three companions (followed unbeknownst to them by Hoggle) picked their way through the piles of junk that surrounded the walls of the goblin city.

"Is everyone in the place a complete slob?" Thranduil questioned as he pushed aside a broken chair and stepped over a pile of unwashed cooking ware.

At last they found themselves at the walls to the goblin city. Although they had once been tall, the thick stone barriers were cracked and broken in places, and blackened with the scorch marks of a great fire. They found the door, which had fallen or been torn off its hinges, leaving only the door frame and a few bits of splintered wood scattered around. Thranduil noticed a pair of metal boots placed beside the doorway, as if the sentry standing there had simply stepped out of them and walked away. The elf glanced about uneasily as the trio passed beneath the archway.

"I wonder what has occurred here," Sir Didymus remarked as they passed beneath a second archway, also without a door, and entered the goblin city.

"Mess…" Ludo declared.

Some of the houses were intact, but many were in similar states to the outside walls, crumbling in places, missing doors or roofs, and some were blackened by soot. Ambrosius sniffed about, startling a wandering chicken, as the companions studied the dismal scene.

"I see no goblins in this so-called goblin city," Sir Didymus said, tugging at his mount. "Ambrosius, really! There is no need to smell that."

But Thranduil's sharp eyes spotted movement in the shadows, and as he watched a goblin, perhaps two and a half feet high, with long spindly fingers and a face that was almost completely flat, emerged. It waddled towards them and peered up at Thranduil.

"Got any spare change, mate?" it asked.

Thranduil blinked.

"Ah, no, I am sorry," he answered. "May I ask who you are?"

"Name's Cus."

"What happened to this place, master… ah, Cus?"

"Well, I'll tell you," the goblin replied. "This place used to be a thrivin' metropolis, but one day all these rocks came to the city and rolled around and chased a body and smashed just about everything, and rather than rebuild the rich folk all moved out to the 'burbs.'"

Thranduil blinked at the unfamiliar word, and the goblin lowered his voice conspiratorially.

"And then the king sent _it_ to guard the city, since the soldiers had gone."

"Sent what?"

"_It_," Cus repeated unhelpfully. "_It_ did that." He pointed at the blackened buildings. "And that." He pointed at the dismantled doors. "And this." He tugged his shirt over his head, like a turtle disappearing into its shell.

"I beg your pardon?"

The goblin only cackled to itself and ran off, its head still inside its shirt. Thranduil watched it bump into a wall, bounce off, and continue on its way, still chortling madly.

"How odd," Thranduil said.

"'Tis a very strange person indeed, my lord," Didymus agreed. "Pay no attention to aught that he said, for I am sure he is less than trustworthy."

"Perhaps," Thranduil agreed. "But nevertheless something is amiss here. We must be on our guard."

"I am always on guard!" Didymus declared loudly. "Let all the defenders of this city come! I shall fight them all to the death!"

"Didymus…" Thranduil began.

"Have at you!" Didymus shouted, swinging his staff at an imagined foe. "Take that! And that! I am not afraid!"

"Didymus!" Thranduil's voice was sharper, more commanding. "Please be quiet!"

Sir Didymus looked up at him.

"But why must we be quiet, my lord? Surely you do not fear whatever dwells in this city."

"Fear, nay," Thranduil replied. "But there is no cowardice in being cautious. Only prudence."

"As you command, my lord, so I shall obey."

The most direct route to the castle would have taken them in a straight line from the archway, but this path was impossible to follow due to the number of buildings that had fallen over or been torn down. Perhaps Thranduil could have climbed over them, but Ludo and Sir Didymus could not, and so the group attempted to find an alternate route.

As they passed yet another fallen building, Thranduil began to believe in the _it_ that Cus had spoken of in such hushed tones about. It was obvious to the elven king that the decrepit state of these buildings were due to more than the hand of time as he ran his hand across several deep gouges in the stone, white against the scorched black, like the clawings of some great beast.

A gentle breeze had sprung up, and it caressed their backs as they walked. Thranduil froze suddenly as the wind carried to his nose a distinctive smell.

_Sulfur_, he thought, sniffing. _And smoke_.

He turned to look behind them but there was nothing there, and the sent that had caught his attention was gone as quickly as it had come.

"My lord, is something amiss?" Sir Didymus questioned.

"I am unsure," Thranduil replied.

They continued walking, but the elven king could not shake the uneasy feeling that he was being watched.

* * *

From his vantage point in the second story window, Hoggle watched the dragon stalk Thranduil, Ludo, and Sir Didymus as the trio attempted to find their way to the castle. The creature was about twice the size of a horse, with scales as red as blood and huge teeth and claws which were wicked-looking even in the distance from which Hoggle was viewing them. He shuddered, and wondered how he could warn Thranduil of the creature.

* * *

A soft sound, somewhat like metal scraping against rock, caused Thranduil to turn again, but as before he could see no sign of any threat. He waited, tense, searching the shadows behind the crooked buildings, but saw nothing.

* * *

Hoggle saw the dragon circle around Thranduil, who had turned his back to the others and was looking back the way they had come. The huge serpent slunk around a building, almost like a cat hunting a mouse. Hoggle saw it gather itself for a spring. 

_Behind you!_ he thought desperately, knowing that the elf king was too far away to hear him should he speak aloud. _Look out!

* * *

_

Thranduil heard the shout in his mind and turned, catching sight of the huge shape hurtling toward him. Faster than the eye could follow he snatched up the lid of a large barrel that stood nearby and threw it up before him like a shield. Six inch claws, meant for his chest, sunk into the wood as the elf was thrown to the ground by the force of the impact. He rolled swiftly away before the weight of the beast could press him to the earth and crush him.

The dragon snarled as it tried to free itself from the wood, quickly accomplishing this with a quick snap of its huge jaws. It turned upon Thranduil again, who had scrambled to his feet and stood a short distance away.

The elf had no weapon with which to fight the creature, so he waited for the dragon it make the first move, diving out of the way behind a heap of rubble as the dragon sent a huge spurt of flame in his direction. He felt the heat pass over him, and hoped the fire hadn't singed his hair as he picked up a rock about the size of his fist.

As soon as the danger of being burnt was momentarily passed, Thranduil leapt from his hiding place, running toward one of the buildings as he threw the rock with all the strength in his arm. It struck the dragon squarely on the nose, and the beast howled as it sank back on its haunches and pawed at its smarting snout.

Behind the building, Thranduil crouched with his back against the cool stone and considered his options. They were few; he had no weapon with which to defend himself, and he did not have time to attempt to lose the dragon in the maze of buildings. He suspected he could do it, but not before his allotted time to rescue Legolas was over, and he could not afford to take the risk. Then again, what else could he do against a dragon?

He heard the dragon snuffling at the corner of the building and stood quickly, jumping up and catching the edge of the roof, pulling himself effortlessly up. A moment later the dragon came around the corner and looked around for him and Thranduil, armed with a piece of broken shingle, jumped onto its back.

The dragon roared again, twisting and tossing beneath him, forcing the elf to grasp at the horns atop its head to keep from falling. The dragon whirled in a circle, flapping its wings in an attempt to dislodge its attacker. Releasing his hold with one hand, Thranduil raised his shingle, intending to attempt to drive it into the dragon's eye, but the move was ill timed. A great sweeping wing struck him hard in the side as he raised his arm, knocking him from his perch and sending him flying off. He landed a good twelve feet away, his head striking something hard as he fell. For a moment the world spun and darkened, and he fought to hold on to consciousness.

When his vision cleared he saw the dragon coming swiftly toward him. He tried to scramble backward, but his muscles would not respond to his commands. The dragon loomed over him, opening its jaws to end his life, when suddenly it stopped a mere foot from him, a puzzled look coming into its eyes. It strained against some halting force that Thranduil could not see, then turned its head to look back.

Ludo had the dragon by the tail, stopping it from being able to reach Thranduil. The dragon huffed as it gathered itself to spit fire at the great beast.

"Ludo, beware!" Thranduil cried, but just as the dragon was about to roast Ludo alive it was attacked from a new angle.

"Have at ye!" Sir Didymus shouted, whacking whatever part of the dragon he could reach with his staff. Ambrosius tried to bite the beast, although his teeth were thwarted by the tough scales that covered the dragon's body. The dragon turned its head, snapping at this new attack. Its teeth broke the staff in two. Sir Didymus barked angrily.

Just then the attack came from yet another angle in the form of small stones that struck the dragon's face upon the opposite side.

"Ha! Take that, you overgrown snake, you!" Hoggle shouted, hurling the small projectiles with a surprising amount of accuracy. "Ya!"

Somehow, Thranduil had managed to hold onto his shingle all this time, and as the dragon turned its face toward Hoggle he forced his arm to move and drove the sharp metal into the dragon's eye. He nearly went deaf with the resulting howl.

The dragon's wings unfurled and it flapped awkwardly upwards, disappearing with a keening wail as it flew off past the rooftops. Thranduil levered himself into a sitting position with a groan.

"Are you well, my lord?" Sir Didymus asked.

"Thrrraaaandoooolll?"

Thranduil nodded.

"Yes, I am unhurt, thank you all." He looked up into their faces, smiling, and then turned to Hoggle, who stood a short distance away.

"I'm sorry I gave ya that apple," the dwarf said, "Jareth made me do it."

Thranduil stood and walked over to the despondent dwarf, laying his hand upon Hoggle's head.

"There is nothing to forgive. Thank you."

Hoggle simply smiled.

"Now we must hurry," Thranduil said. "We are almost out of time.

When at last they reached the doors to the castle, Thranduil stopped at the base of the steps.

"Here is where we must part," he told his companions.

"Part?" Sir Didymus exclaimed. "But we have not yet rescued thy son and completed our quest!"

Thranduil smiled down at the enthusiastic little figure.

"I am sorry, Didymus," he said. "But this is my quest, and I must complete it alone."

Sir Didymus nodded solemnly.

"Very well, my lord. I wish you good fortune."

Ambrosius licked Thranduil's hand, and he patted the shaggy head briefly before turning to Ludo.

"Buuhhh-Byyyeee, Thhrraannndoooollll." Before the elf could reply he found himself caught up in a very big, very hairy hug. He patted Ludo's shoulder awkwardly and waited to be released.

"Good-bye," Hoggle said forlornly when Ludo had set Thranduil down once more.

Thranduil turned and walked up the steps, pausing at the top to look back once more at his companions. He lifted his hand in an elvish blessing.

"Farewell, my brothers. May the Valar protect you on your path under the sky."

Then he turned away once more, pushing open the heavy doors and stepping inside without looking back.

He found the throne room easily enough. Jareth stood upon a dais before his throne, dressed all in white with a flowing robe of white feathers. Legolas stood a few feet away, encased in what looked like a giant bubble.

Thranduil saw Legolas's lips move in a silent cry of _Ada_ and watched the little fists beat upon the unyielding surface of his transparent prison. Thranduil took a menacing step toward the goblin king.

"Give me my son," he commanded.

Jareth smiled scornfully.

"No, I don't think I shall."

He snapped his fingers, and hundreds of small goblins appeared as if out of nowhere, swarming across the ground and throwing themselves upon Thranduil. He struggled against them, but like a mass of ravenous fire ants upon a stag they quickly covered him and bore him to the ground through sheer numbers. Thranduil struggled valiantly, but in vain, and all he could do was hurl furious curses at the mocking Goblin King.

"Liar!" he snarled. "Coward! I have reached your castle as you bade me, and yet you hold my son still, and keep me subdued by magic and trickery. You send your minions to do your bidding, for you dare not face me yourself!" He threw one of the goblins off and partially freed his right arm, but three more quickly took its place, pinning the limb down once again.

"You dare not meet me alone, for you know I would do more than place another bruise upon your face!"

Jareth's hand moved slowly to his cheek as the mocking smile fell away and a deadly serious look came over his visage.

"If that is the way you want it," he said slowly, his voice like a serpent's hiss before its strike. "Then that is the way it will be."

At once the goblins were gone, vanished as if they had never been. Thranduil nearly brained himself as suddenly he was struggling against only air, but he recovered quickly and rose swiftly and gracefully to his feet.

Jareth waved his hand and two long, bright swords appeared before them, hanging suspended in the air.

"Your weapon of choice, I believe?" Jareth said politely, malice in his smile.

"Not quite," Thranduil replied, meeting the man's eyes. "But with my weapon of choice there would be no contest, so I begrudge you not."

He approached the blades slowly, not trusting the goblin king at all. Cautiously he reached out and grasped the handle of one of the swords, which came away easily in his hand as he hefted the blade, testing its weight and breadth as he sighted down the length of the steel to see if it was straight and hale. He swung the blade swiftly over his head and down in a cutting arc as Jareth watched.

"It will serve," he said.

Jareth's smile grew broader, but no less cold.

"I am so glad you approve." He brushed his cloak away from his shoulders and the white material fluttered to the ground in a graceful heap. Beneath the robe he also wore a coat of mail, the steel rings somewhat larger than the mithril ones of Thranduil's and studded with diamonds. He reached for the second sword.

Both armed, they circled slowly, eyes locked, each daring the other to make the first move. They moved with cautious grace that showed neither was a stranger to the sword, each silently assessing the other's step and balance. Lightning flickered from their eyes, emerald to cobalt, the gaze of these two kings nearly as great and terrible as the swords they held.

Thranduil struck, sweeping in with a double-handed diagonal cut intended to test the strength of his opponent's guard. He was elven fast, but Jareth's blade met his well, faltering only slightly under the surprising strength of the deceptively slender elf lord. The goblin king took a half-step backward, giving himself room to maneuver as he turned his wrist, spinning down and under Thranduil's attack and forcing the elf to reassess his own guard, turning his blade to knock aside Jareth's thrust at his unprotected left side.

Thranduil made use of his superior strength, forcing Jareth's arm upward in an arc and stepping in so that their hilts met. Locked together, their eyes met over the clasp of their hands and the silver pommels of their weapons. Jareth's widened slightly as he felt the power in the elf's arms press him down, and, knowing he had not the strength to contend at such close quarters, he dropped to one knee and rolled into Thranduil's shins, causing the elf to stumble forward. Thranduil did not fall as most opponents would have, however, and Jareth was only just quick enough to block the descending sword that would have sundered his head in two. He heaved upward, forcing Thranduil to take a step back, and followed with a quick undercut, a reverse, and an uppercut upon the other side to keep the elf defending.

Jareth realized that the elven king had superior strength and that his greater age had allowed him many more years of study in the art of swordplay. If the combat was to depend upon physical skill alone, he knew he would lose. However, Jareth had his own advantages; he had watched Thranduil navigate the labyrinth, and knew the way the elf thought. Jareth was nothing if not crafty, and he knew how to work this understanding to his advantage.

He let Thranduil take the lead once more, concentrating on parrying the blows that rained down upon him. When he returned to the offensive he struck with a deliberately awkward and seemingly desperate blow, throwing open his guard upon the left side as he did so. Thranduil fell for the trick, sidestepping the apparently careless lunge and responding with a thrust of his own rather than defending with his sword against Jareth's attack.

Jareth switched his lunge to a cut and slid in below Thranduil's arm to lay a deep gash in the elf's thigh. Only the quickest of reflexes prevented Thranduil from losing his ability to walk as he realized how he had been tricked and dropped down and sideways away from the blow. Jareth's blade still found its mark, though not with the power its owner had intended.

Thranduil rolled and came to his feet once more.

"Curunír!" he hissed as he put weight upon the injured leg.

"First blood," Jareth replied.

"A trick!"

"And an effective one." They began to circle once more. "You are far too snooty and prideful, Thranduil, and someday it is going to get you killed."

"Perhaps," Thranduil said, echoing Jareth's mocking smile with one of his own. "But not at your hand."

The elf struck again, feinting right and then coming in on the left as Jareth swung his sword to meet the blow. Jareth twisted his body so that it was behind his misplaced his sword once more and then dropped to one knee and aimed a blow at Thranduil's legs, which the elf avoided. His wound didn't seem to slow him at all as he brought his sword down upon Jareth.

Jareth kicked him in the shin.

"I learned that move from your son!" he snarled as Thranduil stumbled and took a step back, giving Jareth a moment to scramble backwards. Then the elf was upon him again, and Jareth brought up his sword like a shield, horizontally across his body with the hilt in his right hand and the flat of the blade pressed against the palm of his left, as Thranduil fell upon him, the elf king's knees on the stone floor on either side of Jareth's body, his sword forming a cross with the goblin king's and his face pressing close to the other's.

With a grunt, Jareth drove his knee into Thranduil's stomach and propelled his opponent over his head. This time it was Thranduil, winded, who had to scramble to block a falling blow. He hissed through clenched teeth as he swung his sword to meet Jareth's cut, pushing the goblin king's sword to the side. There was the ring of metal sliding 'gainst metal as Thranduil spun Jareth's sword aside and down, pinning it to the ground beneath his own. He surged upwards, hitting Jareth's chest squarely with his left shoulder and knocking him onto his back. The sword fell from the goblin king's fingers and before he could even look to see where it had fallen he felt the cool kiss of sharp steel against his neck. He lay back again and looked up into Thranduil's face. The elven king's eyes were ice.

"Release my son."

Jareth raised his hands slightly as if to protest, and the pressure against his skin increased until he could feel it just cut into his neck.

"I cannot think of a reason why I should refrain from taking your life," Thranduil warned.

Jareth's eyes dared him to do it, even as he waved his hand and the globe encasing the elven prince faded away.

"Ada!" Legolas cried, finding himself free at last. "Ada!"

Thranduil turned to look, and Jareth attempted to take advantage of the elf king's distraction. Although Thranduil's eyes were no longer upon him, however, the sword remained sure against his neck.

"Ada, don't do it!" Legolas shouted in Sindarian, running to his father and throwing himself into Thranduil's arms. There were tears on the child's cheeks; Thranduil could feel their dampness against his neck as Legolas buried his face into his father's shoulder.

"Don't do what, my heart?" Thranduil asked softly.

"Don't kill him!" Legolas cried, his voice muffled as he refused to lift his head. "Don't kill him, ada. Don't, don't…" he began to sob unintelligibly.

"I won't dear one," Thranduil soothed. He took the sword from Jareth's neck and dropped it upon the ground so that he might stroke his son's heaving back. "Be at peace, I am here."

Jareth propped himself up on his elbows.

"What did he say?"

Thranduil glanced down at the goblin king.

"He asked me not to kill you."

For a moment they looked at each other, and then there was a silent clap in the air, like thunder with no sound, and Thranduil found himself standing by the open window of Legolas's room once more.

Too concerned for the small bundle in his arms to be overly surprised by once again being transported somewhere entirely different, Thranduil moved quickly to the bed, stroking the small golden head resting on his shoulder.

"Shhh," he soothed. "All is well, my heart. All is well."

Legolas quieted under his father's gentle touch and comforting voice, and soon was asleep against Thranduil's chest. Thranduil held him for a while, comforting himself as much as his child, assuring himself that his son was indeed safe. Finally he laid the elfling down upon the bed and pulled the blankets up to the little chin. He dipped a cloth in the basin beside the bed and carefully washed streaks of dust and salt tears off his son's face.

Legolas lay still, long, dark lashes resting upon fair cheeks, for he was too young yet to sleep with his eyes open as the adults of his kind did. Thranduil brushed a strand of hair away from his son's face and planted a kiss upon his brow. As he sat up a shadow fell across the bed.

Thranduil leapt to his feet and whirled around, his hand reaching for a knife that was not there. Straightening, he readied himself to deal with whatever threat had come with his hands, turning toward the moon-lit window. The wound in his leg twinged, but he ignored it.

Jareth stood just inside the room, dressed simply in all black, a loose-fitting shirt open at the collar and his usual tight breeches and boots. He raised his hands in submission.

"I only want to say goodbye."

Thranduil stared at him, unsure, and when he gave no reply Jareth brushed past him and stepped toward the bed. Thranduil caught his arm.

"No tricks," he warned as the goblin king turned to look at him.

"No tricks."

Jareth turned back to the bed, gazing down at the angelic little figure beneath the blankets.

"He really is a charming little fellow," he observed to no one in particular, laying his hand on the sleeping elf's brow much as Legolas's father had done a few moments before. He let his hand slide down the sleeping form until it lay over Legolas's small fist. He held it there for a moment, and when he lifted it the ebony chess figure of Jareth was clutched in the elfing's fingers.

"They really did go to live in a castle in the sky," he said softly, leaning down close to the sleeping face.

Legolas stirred at the sound of Jareth's voice and opened sleepy eyes.

"Hi."

"Hello yourself."

"Legolas murmured something in Sindarian that Jareth couldn't even make out, never mind understand. The elfling's eyes fluttered closed and he rolled over onto his side, unconsciously bringing the little ebony king close to his chest as he tucked his hands under his chin.

Jareth turned to look at Thranduil.

"What did he say?"

"I hope you find the girl with the pants." Thranduil frowned questioningly, and Jareth laughed.

"He's a perceptive little chap."

"You have no idea."

The two paused, alarmed that they were suddenly talking as if they were equals, even comrades. But Thranduil pursued the conversation, for something was still on his mind.

"You are not allowed to come back and take him again?"

Jareth shook his head. "No, you defeated the labyrinth, my goblins are not allowed to take him again. So worried?" A hint of a smirk played at the corners of the Goblin King's mouth.

Thranduil squared his shoulders. "He is my son."

"Yes," Jareth said quickly, starting toward the window. When he reached it, he stopped and turned around to face the elven king. "And you are a good father."

Thranduil's head tilted slightly, confused by the sudden shift he perceived in the seemingly hard-hearted, mocking, childish Goblin King. But then he thought of his son, how the boy had wanted to save him. He realized that there were things that he, despite being thousands of years older than the sleeping child on the bed, did not know or understand. He looked the Goblin King directly in the eye with a changed expression on his face.

Jareth smiled.

"Farewell, King of the Elves," he said, before turning into an owl and disappearing out into the night. Thranduil went to the window and watched his silhouette against the moon.

_i__ methen_

_

* * *

_

_Well, folks, that's all she wrote, at least for now. We are considering, however, doing a sequel and possibly an AU spin off in which Thranduil goes to visit Jareth's father bringing along little!Legolas to play with little!Jareth. So, click that little button down there pointy point and let me know if you are interested in either. And thanks for reading Magic Dance in Middle Earth!_


End file.
